


Burning Bright

by NoirxAnge



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, But Tsuna is there for him, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Language, Family Issues, Flames affect relationships, Gen, Harry Has Issues, Hints of Homoeroticism, Homoeroticism, Homoromantic, Hurt/Comfort, Inferiority Complex, Neglect, Other, Recovery, Romance, Tsuna is Dame but not quite, hints of polyamory, love heals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirxAnge/pseuds/NoirxAnge
Summary: Burning BrightDying EmbersA story on how I feel Harry would join the Vongola Famiglia.Harry never knew comfort or warmth. Until he met them. Thank god for time travelling, right?Flames-Instead-of-Magic!AU, rated M due to possible triggers





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags attached, they are there for a reason. You can give this story a go, but please don't get all gung-ho on me when you read uncomfortable content that has already been forewarned in the tag section.

Burning Bright

Dying Embers

He trudged along the road, dragging his heavy lead feet, forcing them to move forward. He was so tired, and he did not look forward to facing another day with his relatives. Every day, he saw the happy family of three, content with their lives, while he was slaving for them and meeting their every demand. Every day, he was simply reminded about how unwanted he was with every shout, how unnatural his mere existence was with every snarl, how he should never have stepped into this world at all with every sneer. Every day, he was reminded about how unloved he was with every laugh, and how he would most likely never ever find love with every look. Because, _why_ would there be someone out in the world willing to accept him, to love him for who he was, and let him love them in return? As was kindly brought up by his relatives almost _every single day,_ he had no one after all, since even his parents left him behind in this world. He knew, they didn’t need to spend so much effort in reminding him how alone he was in the world. He’d come to terms with it.

But it still hurt to know even people who were supposed to be his family hated him.

His long dark lashes fluttered down as he closed his dulled jade eyes tightly in a vain attempt to let them rest, albeit briefly. He paused and leaned on a brick wall, in front of a two-stories tall yellow Western-styled house with red tiled roofs, a large yard filled with flowers and green grass sprawling around the walls. Breathing in deeply, the clean fresh air from the Sawada residence's garden filled his lungs with a hint of frangipanis[1] and salvia flowers[2], he tried to distract his mind from the sharp hunger pains he felt and stop his dizziness. He controlled the pace of his harsh breathing, and slowly relaxed his tense body, smiling slightly at the tiny gentle warmth he could feel inching towards his core.

This was unique to this family only — the warmth of a loving family full of acceptance that he always wanted to be part of. Walking past this place every day was both a torturous and wondrous procedure. There was always some commotion of sorts, with screaming and shouting, some explosions here and there. But it was always saturated with warmth. He hadn't been part of a warmth like this for so long, he didn't want it to go away.

_Perhaps, this can be my only present._

So, he stood there just a bit longer, leaning against the wall, holding on to that special feeling for just a while longer, keeping his eyes closed so he didn't chase the growing warmth away. He could feel himself thawing, and a smile crept up his face unknowingly. This, this was what he wanted all his life, and perhaps, one day, he might just have it. All he thought of was the treasure he didn’t have, and the bittersweet taste of the warmth from the home.

But he never knew that during that one little moment where he had his guard down, he would be attacked and swallowed whole in the darkness of a weapon.

Before he could even realize he was being moved and before the shouting voices could reach his ears, a loud explosion rang in his brain.

Seventeen-year-old Harry Potter disappeared in a loud pink gaseous explosion, and he was gone.

x

"Oomph," he groaned out as he fell heavily on a cushioned chair, biting his tongue to keep from shouting, keeping the pain in as he cradled his throbbing leg. It was only after the pain had somewhat subsided that he realised that there was something wrong with this situation. Hadn't he been beside the road, outside that ((lovely)) family's house?

Looking up quickly, green eyes stared at the orange glow that caught their attention. His breath got caught in his chest, and he held it in tightly, as though it were the only thing keeping him sane and alive, that stopped him from falling down a slippery slide.

Candles. Lit, and happily burning on top of a cake.

A layered cake, extravagantly big with bright red ruby-like strawberries and silvery dollops of cream, decorated with a chocolate writing: _Happy Birthday Harry!_

His eyes just wouldn't stray from the sight, and for some reason he didn't understand ((lies lies lies he knew exactly why)), he felt tears welling in his eyes. His shoulders shook, and he bit his lower lip so hard he could taste a bit of blood being drawn out. A sudden "tsk" disturbed him from his tunnel vision, and he instinctively brought up his arms to protect himself against any blow. He could vaguely hear the little background noises of exclamations and talking turn into a deathly silence, but his only focus was on his defence. But he could only hold it up for so long before he grew curious at the lack of movement towards him. So, he peeked up, and green met orange, and his soul quivered.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, only not quite him.

This was an older, taller version of him, but it was _him_. Spiky brown hair he always thought would be extremely fluffy but longer than he knew it to be, a kind face with a gentle smile that matured without the baby fat he was used to seeing, an aura that just pulled him in. Only his eyes were entirely different, a pale sunset orange, but the look in his eyes were the same: determined, strong, accepting.

"Harry?"

And this person knew him. _Him_ , the typical jumpy bullying victim, the foreigner everyone strayed from, the one everyone whispered about. He wanted to weep. His chest hurt, from something he barely ever had a glimpse of. The barren land of his heart had a few tiny seeds that were growing into tiny saplings, unknown to him, hidden in the depths of his inner world, waiting to bloom under the bright and warm sunlight that was to come after the suffocating darkness of the night.

Behind this blinding person, he saw a huge banner, splattered with colourful paint where there were clearly disagreements on the colour choice, hanging up from the ceiling above so, _so_ many staring people, saying, "Happy 27th Birthday!", and in a smaller size, "you're still alive, aren't you proud of yourself?".

How could such little ((humongous)) things take his breath away like this? He never imagined he would have this, not in a million years.

He finally brought himself to reply to this being slowly, "Yes? Where am I? Am I... dreaming?"

Someone snorted, and he felt more tears building up and his throat burning, tides and waves of memories drowning him.

But warm hands grasped his, and held him tightly, glowing orange eyes holding his eyes. Sawada smiled at him so gently, he almost blacked out from how long he had been holding in his breath. "No, Harry, you're not. This is your reality, well, in ten years' time." He could hear some derisiveness in the orange tones, as though Sawada thought Harry wouldn't believe him. But he wanted to, and when he looked over to the people behind Sawada who were all somewhat smiling at him in their own ways (with smirks, half smiles, glares, grins, but all with _such warm eyes_ ) he managed to choke out from all the emotions he was feeling, "Really? I'll have all this - this future is mine and m-my life, it means something?"

Something happened.

He was being hugged. It was so tight it hurt, but he could smell the soft brown hair that was pressed against his cheek, feel the body warmth that he had never felt from anyone for so long, the security from these strong arms and shoulders, the familiar soul-warming aura he always felt from the Sawada residence. The embrace hurt so much tears threatened to leak out again but _he was so happy_ he revelled in the pain. He balled up his trembling fists, grabbing the shirt on this deity's back, unable to breathe properly.

The hair was just as fluffy as he always thought it would be, and the smell even more intoxicating than he ever thought it would be.

"Ah, you'll never be alone again. Trust me, trust _us_." Someone muttered something (“only one minute left”), and Harry could feel Sawada giving a small nod before speaking again. "Just help us out when you're back in the past, and trust us then too. Don't worry, we will always stand by you. You're my ever-present Hourglass, and we're your family after all."

He was a fool for even trying to stop the dam from breaking. That last sentence did him in; ugly tears rolled down his cheeks in unabashed streams, and he just _lost it_. His breath stuttered, and he just kept smiling so widely he thought his cheeks would forever ache and remind him of this moment. His overjoyed eyes just peered over to all those precious, _precious_ people standing in front of him, all suddenly gathered around them in a protective circle. Black purple red brown yellow grey white silver blue green orange — a rainbow with so many hues he could never dream of naming them all.

He closed his eyes, and soaking in all these for one ((final?)) time, and promised wobbly.

"I'll wait, for as long as it takes, to have you with me."

_I'll hold this close to my heart so I never lose warmth again, no matter what._

And he was gone again, in a pink cloudy boom.

x

He landed on the hard cement floor — no, there was something soft on the ground. He opened his eyes, and saw yet another huge group of people surrounding him. Nervously, he bunched up the grass underneath his fists, and stood up quickly, dusting his pants. Looking around fervently, his green eyes landed on caramel ones.

His heart died a bit when he saw the lack of recognition that had lighted up his future self's. But Harry still tried, and attempted a small smile. "H-hi... Sawada-san? I-I..."

His voice trailed off when he saw the lacklustre response to his greetings. There was nothing bitter in how he felt though, after all Harry knew he would never truly have a future that was as wonderful as the one he saw (or did he dream that one up?), and was perfectly happy with just those few moments he shared with the gentle kind divine being. So, he bowed awkwardly and left the garden through the open gates (when did he even go in?), with the intention of simply going on with his life, and going through the horrible routines with that small ember of happiness burning in his heart.

But then he fell in a blur of intense pain, and slipped into an abyss of darkness. Before he became fully unconscious, he saw a glimpse of people rushing to him, and his last thoughts were: _I knew I should've drank more from the water hose in school._

x

Tsuna could do little more than simply sigh as once again, Lambo was being the child he was and trying to aggravate everyone. After they had defeated Byakuran and returned from the future, the tenth generation of Vongola Guardians and Boss put themselves into meeting every week to have more advanced training to better themselves. They never wanted to be as vulnerable as they had been when they first went into the future. In a sense, Tsuna supposed they had an advantage, going into the future and taking a glimpse of what it would be like, and preparing themselves to face that future. As of now, the definite future was unknown to them, after they created a disturbance by traveling into the future and did more than just slightly interacting with it. But he had a feeling, that no matter what they did, there would always be that one major problem that threatened to endanger their Famiglia.

So, call it his Intuition or whatever, he was going to prepare his Famiglia to face any danger in the future, and was not going to lose this preciously small circle of people to anything other than Time itself. He even managed to convince Hibari and Mukuro to join this new tradition, albeit there were a lot of _conditions_ that they insisted on… Bianchi, Kyouko and Haru all suddenly popped in one day as well, and never left. Hana had followed the week after that, grumbling about how she could never leave Kyouko in ambiguous hands.

This week was supposed to be the same as any other: they would spend the whole day together training their physical endurances, and push their limits, spar with one another and play around with the properties of their Flames, taking breaks in between to just chat or do some homework together. They had been doing this, until they reached Lambo’s turn. Perhaps Tsuna and Gokudera, who had helped arrange the sparring schedule, should have taken more care in their pairings. But they had underestimated how Lambo was still very much a small child who was vulnerable to his own feelings, and how disheartened he could already be, let alone when he was with Reborn. True to his character, Reborn was near merciless with the child, and Lambo, unable to hold in his tears, had reverted back to his habit of running off while wailing.

The Famiglia expected Lambo to take out his Ten-Year-Bazooka and escape into the future, but no one expected there to be an inconspicuous rock in his way, or that there would be a passer-by, or that Lambo would trip. Even while he was trying to warn the foreign-looking boy and trying to catch the bazooka, strangely, Tsuna’s Intuition remained silent.

All their attempts of interception failed, and Tsuna caught a glimpse of shocked bright green eyes (darker than Gokudera’s, his mind voiced), and smoke enveloped the whole area.

The smoke lifted, and a man in his twenties appeared, clad in a black suit, with a light grey dress shirt and a silver tie, surrounded by an open school bag with its spilled contents.

The man, with stylishly messy black hair and pale skin, and a curious colourful birthday hat on his head, looked up from his collapse on the ground, and bright green eyes pierced into caramel eyes.

A warm smile lit up his face, and Tsuna could feel his face warming as well. Absent-mindedly, he could hear the shuffling of clothes and his Guardians slowly moving to his sides, and smell the metallic sharpness of weapons being drawn. But he couldn’t take his eyes away from this person from the future.

“Hello, chibi-Tsuna!”

His Intuition and Flames _sang_.

x

They shifted to the lawn, away from the public’s direct line of sight, with Mukuro and Chrome working together to weave an illusion. Once everything was set up, action was taken. Gun cocked at the man, Reborn questioned him with his trademark poker face. “Who are you? We never saw you in the future.”

The man just sighed in the face of death, and smiled teasingly at the Arcobaleno. “I’m hurt Reborn. I’m Harry. Harry Potter. Or well, Potter Harry according to the Japanese language. You never saw me in the future, because, the future is always changing, isn’t it? Simply said, if you hadn’t gone to the future, you wouldn’t have such trainings, Lambo wouldn’t have had a chance to throw a tantrum just as I was walking by, and you wouldn’t have met me. It works like a parallel universe: after you travelled to the future, you essentially changed the mechanics and the course of _your_ universe, and so now you have me in your Famiglia as well.”

Turning to Tsuna and the rest of his Famiglia, Harry’s smile softened into a genuinely sincere smile. “I’ve missed seeing all of you, before puberty fully hit you,” he confessed cheekily. Met with still mistrusting eyes, he sighed exasperatedly and brought his hand up beside his face, his palm facing himself. With a shift of the hand, the sunlight hit and glinted off something, revealing a ring they never noticed before, in the same shape of their own Vongola rings, but with a figure of  an hourglass etched in the shields instead. Wanting to make sure, Tsuna stepped forward, and ignited his own Flames, lifting his own ring to the unfamiliar ring.

The following resonance of the orange and white flames dancing and the warmth bubbling within his body just confirmed what Harry already said. The ring was authentic. He was a member of the Vongola Famiglia, one of his Guardians, but how? How could there be another Guardian whose element was unknown to him all this time?

What else was the Vongola hiding from him?

“Perhaps you could ask that predecessor of yours about my position, hmm?”

Looking up in shock, Tsuna narrowed his eyes at Harry.

Suddenly, there was a gust of wind that swept up dust and dirt, swallowing up Tsuna and the smiling foreigner in a mini-whirlwind, muffling the sounds of panicked shouts, leaving a strange silence between the two. Bringing his fists up in precaution and out of reflexes more than anything else (because how could he fight someone when his Intuition was screaming at him to stop?), Tsuna watched Harry. With a small gentle smile, Harry spoke and voiced Tsuna’s worst fears. The Vongola heir trembled a bit, before relaxing his stance.

That was all the others could see: shadows of the duo’s figures moving without any threatening body language showing. Gokudera was relentlessly trying to find a way to combat the wind, shouting at Yamamoto to help him, while the others just observed quietly, gripping their weapons tightly.

x

“There isn’t much time left, so I wanted to talk to you alone.

“Don’t worry, your current fears will never come true.”

Tsuna stared at Harry with his breath held.

He was met with a pair of determined eyes.

“You’ll never become the you that you encountered in the future you saw.

“You’re different, just keep being yourself, and staying truthful to yourself, and you’ll never lose sight of what you wanted the Vongola Famiglia to be.”

“But how do you know?” his voice broke, strained and weary.

The bright grin that answered him swept his worries away, and filled his body with hope.

“Because, why else would you have kept me with you?”

x

The whirlwind died down, and the familiar pink gas filled the lawn, causing everyone to start coughing.

The boy from earlier was in the place of the future Guardian, his eyes swollen and red, his cheeks still not dry from what they could easily discern to be tears. Dismissing him as a threat, what with his body language that just screamed _vulnerability_ , and eyes still wet, the other Guardians stood back a bit, except for Gokudera who rushed to Tsuna’s side and Yamamoto who did much the same, but with his fake and too wide grin in place. Tsuna couldn’t help but stare at this younger Harry, who looked so similar yet different from the one he had been talking to. He still had so many questions and Harry was gone, leaving behind this person. How could they be the same person, when the eyes Harry had were so strong, while this Harry had such vulnerable eyes?

“H-hi... Sawada-san? I-I..." The teenager had on a weak wobbly smile, that slowly died as Tsuna was unable to respond. Biting his lips, the shaken teen stood up and bowed, smile barely intact, and left the residence.

His Intuition _screamed_ at him, and he rushed to Harry but it was too late; Harry fell to the ground, unconscious.

_This was really too much to take in._

x

Gokudera and Yamamoto helped carry Harry into the living room, placing him on the couch. Nana, as carefree as ever, just looked over and smiled happily, “Is your new friend here for a sleepover? That’s great! I’ll put a new futon out for him in the guestroom!”. Tsuna just laughed shakily in response, bringing in the school bag with him. All the Guardians filled the room as well, and Nana busied herself with making tea and bringing out more snacks for everyone, making sure to have enough of everyone’s favourite treats out.

Everyone seemed to be dismissive enough, going about what they had originally been doing. Reborn was back to egging Lambo on, standing on the arm of the loveseat, with the onesie-lover squealing in the lawn with every bullet he barely dodges. Hibari was lazing around in his corner in front of the glass doors of the veranda where no one ever disturbed, under the sun. Chrome was sitting on the armchair reading Bianchi’s fashion magazines, while Mukuro sat perched on an arm of the chair, reading more of the books on secret Vongola illusion and torture (?) techniques. Yamamoto and Gokudera were playing video games, competing against each other, with the silver-haired male shouting out profanities every once in a while, the spiky-haired male laughing constantly, and Ryohei watching them avidly, shouting “Extreme!!!” every time someone pulled a highly skilled move. But they all kept an eye out for the sleeping body, always being alert.

Only Tsuna was obviously staring at the sleeping male, still holding on to the school bag as he sat on the loveseat. Abandoning his attempt at controlling his curiosity, and admitting to himself that he wanted to know who Harry was, he dug out an ID card from the school bag, and read to himself out loud. “Potter Harry, 17, a student of Namimori Middle School… his birthday is today?” Digging further, he saw a slip of paper that stated his area of residence, supposedly as a guide to ask anyone the way home if he were lost. It was horribly crumpled, and had seemingly been smoothed out multiple times, with some of the ink on the paper smudged. Eyes scanning the directions, Tsuna nudged Reborn. “Reborn, Harry lives nearby, we should bring him home. It’s near evening now.” The statement was just that: a statement to be followed. A glint of satisfaction in his black eyes, Reborn jumped off the loveseat and Tsuna asked Gokudera and Yamamoto to help him. With a flash of light, Leon transformed into a green stretcher, and the three shifted Harry, who slept like the dead, onto the stretcher, the two Guardians carrying it while insisting that Tsuna not do anything. After reporting to his mother, Tsuna then led the party, Reborn on his shoulder.

 _I’m sure his family must be worried_ , Tsuna thought as he watched the sun set, colouring the town in a deep, bloody red.

x

_“Who are you?”_

Spit practically covered his face once the door opened. Wiping his face clean with his sleeve (he could hear Yamamoto calming Gokudera down), Tsuna tried to smile at the grotesquely obese man with the similarly horrendous moustache. Speaking in heavily accented English, Tsuna explained, _“Erm, we came to bring Potter-san back to you, I’m sorry we only brought him back so late.”_

A glimpse at the still body actually made the man laugh. He _laughed_ , seeing Harry lying on the stretcher. Tsuna narrowed his eyes subconsciously, his Flames coming to life just beneath his skin, triggering the two Guardians to also have their hackles raised. Gokudera’s pockets started smoking, and Yamamoto’s smile grew wider, revealing his sharp canine teeth. Reborn stood on the stretcher, hand casually holding onto the handle, body visibly tense to those who knew him extremely well.

Perhaps they were overreacting; it _was_ strange to see someone being carried around town on a stretcher by lanky boys. The other residents have long grown numb to the antics they were always up to, and simply took everything they did in with resigned acceptance. _Perhaps_ it was normal to laugh at weird situations. Yet they had this strong feeling, that this man was definitely not laughing because of that.

The man continued to laugh boisterously, his disgusting layers of fat jiggling with each heavy breath he took. _“Look at him now, pathetic. Why did you bother bringing him back? Continue with what you were doing to him, don’t come back with him if you can! Hah, throw him in some dump even, he deserves this. Just be smart about it, here I’ll even bloody pay you to get rid of him! To think I cursed the day when I had to bring him here with my family, this was a blessing in disguise!”_

Without another moment lost, the man turned his back to them, and went back into the house without a second look.

But he didn’t manage to close the door, because a foot kept it open. Turning back to the boys, the man looked questioningly at Tsuna, who had on a pleasant expression with burning eyes and a deadly smile. _“Of course, sir. But first, we should erase any evidence of him living here. Mind letting us take it off your hands?”_

Another bout of laughter arose, then the man looked at them as though they were idiots. _“He doesn’t have anything,”_ then there was a pause, _“except for a bit. PET!”_ He shouted back into the house, face becoming red just from the short shout. A tall blond woman walked towards the entrance, stopping a short distance away, enough for the boys to see her. The long sallow face that reminded them strongly of a horse (as seen by Yamamoto’s barely hidden snorts, and Gokudera’s disgusted look) peered at the obese man. “ _Go and take the freak’s things. He’s finally getting out of our hands.”_ A light clearly sparked in those eyes, and the horse dared to smile when she heard of the news. While waiting for the woman to gather everything, they had to suffer from the heavy breathing of the man.

Finally, it was done. _“There, hurry take this and burn them with his body.”_ The man pushed the small plastic bag he got from the woman, which looked like one from a typical convenience store, filled with only a few things, to Tsuna forcefully, as though a second longer would cause him to be contaminated with a deadly disease. This time, Tsuna let the door slam shut.

Body absurdly hot, the young Vongola heir turned on his heels and stalked off to the direction of his home, the other two following. With a dark look on his face, Tsuna muttered to Reborn, who had jumped onto his shoulder once the door was shut. "Reborn, if you can, can you investigate this household a bit?" _I want to find some scandalous evidence to destroy their lives_ , was left unsaid. He got a hard knuckle on the head, leaving him shrieking from the pain and shock a bit, and he looked up at Reborn who had a smug smirk on. "Of course, No-Good Tsuna. I am the World's Greatest Hitman after all." Smiling gratefully, Tsuna glanced back at Harry, wondering why he had such a reaction, and if this was how things started to unravel.

_I’ll have to thank Gokudera-kun, no, Hayato, for the gruelling English lessons. I guess I’ll have to study harder for the Italian, French and Chinese lessons._

x

When he returned to his house, all the Guardians were curiously still there. He did stumble a bit at the thought that Kyouko, Haru and Hana weren't here, before his mind blearily reminded him that they didn't come today because of their "Outsiders' Day Out", as Kyouko called it to make him flustered. Six pairs of eyes and one swivelled around to stare at the group that just returned, looking like a group of wolves, with their eyes glowing in the darkness of the twilight. Mukuro sighed when he saw Harry with them, and exchanged a look with Chrome. "I knew you would bring him back."

"How?"

This time, Chrome was the one to speak up. Softly, her eye staring at a faraway place, she whispered, "Because he's like me. The me from before I met Mukuro-sama."

Tsuna wasn't the only one whose eyes widened in shock. The new knowledge just steeled his determination further, and made his Intuition whisper against his skin: _protect his newfound family member_.

The children stayed silent.

"Mama," the brunette started, making Nana peek her head out from the kitchen where she had been making dinner. "Is it okay if our family increases by one?" Her face immediately brightened. "Of course, Tsu-kun, it's already done."

x

After dinner, everyone was still lingering, trying to rest their fuller than full stomachs. Suddenly, Hibari cocked his head and looked up towards the stairs, eventually climbing up after a short pause. When they couldn't hear any sound for a long while, Tsuna made his way up warily, hoping that Hibari didn't kill their new member in an attempt to see his combat abilities. But no one could've expected to see what he saw up in the children's room. Upon reaching the door that was ajar, Tsuna stood still in shock for a moment, before he leaned against the doorframe and smiled.

Fuuta and I-Pin, who had both been missing immediately after dinner, were sleeping on Harry's right, their heads on the futon while their bodies laid on the floor. Hibird had made Harry's fluffy hair a nest of its own, and Hibari slept while sitting against the wall on Harry's left. Correction, he thought wryly to himself as Hibari opened one eye, Hibari was merely resting his eyes. Once Hibari registered Tsuna’s presence, he tilted his head, and looked at Harry’s frowning face.

“Ngh,” he groaned, turning about in his sleep. “N...no…”

“Harry?”

A loud inhale and wide open eyes signalled his waking. Harry quickly sat up, clutching his head in pain from the sudden movement, eyes darting around wildly, while Hibird escaped to Hibari just in time to avoid being rudely dislocated. Tsuna tried to put him at ease by inching closer while holding his hands up in a defenceless stance, and the newly awoken teen slowly relaxed. “Sawada-san?” Full of confusion, Harry peered at Tsuna, then the people in the room. Hibari simply continued laying in his position, not interested enough yet to move, Hibird now perched on his shoulder. Fuuta rubbed his eye sleepily while I-Pin gave a slight whine at her disturbed rest, both of their faces brightening when they saw the open green eyes. Grabbing his tome close, Fuuta excitedly leaned towards Harry. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Fuuta, what’s yours?” Blinking and struggling to face such exuberance in his drowsy state, Harry managed to say, “Harry. It’s… nice to meet you too.”

“My name is I-Pin! Harry-san, Ni Hao!”

“O-oh, hello, I-Pin.”

With sparkling eyes, the young boy offered, “Would you like me to Rank you?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Please, let me!”

“W-wait, I don’t quite –”

“I really want to, please?”

“Well…”

“Why don’t you let him?”

“Sawada-san…”

A shrug later, Harry just smiled helplessly at Fuuta. With a gleeful giggle, the wind picked up slightly, and the boy levitated with his tome, shocking the raven-haired youth into silent staring. “Harry Potter, in Namimori, Ranked number one in terms of desire for a family, Ranked number four in terms of kindness, Ranked number five in terms of killing intent –”

“Ah, Fuuta-kun, maybe that’s a bit too much to share,” Tsuna interrupted him, gesturing towards the pale Harry shifting uncomfortably. It seemed the last bit of information revealed piqued Hibari’s interest as well; Tsuna could see how his eyebrows were raised and the new light in which he looked at Harry. “Harry – Harry – Nice to meet you –!” The chirp came from Hibird, and drew Harry’s attention to Hibari.

Green eyes immediately sharpened into blades of emerald, unyielding from the steely gaze. A tense moment passed, then progress was made. “Hibari Kyouya.”

A slow gulp, then a stiffening of the body. His fists clenched so tightly he could feel his skin giving way under his nails, Harry tried to shrink into himself. He only managed to bite out, “Potter Harry. Pleased to meet you.”

“Herbivore.”

Harry flinched a bit, but continued keeping his head down. He didn’t see the narrowed grey stare, preoccupied by his own thoughts.

He’d been called worse names before, this was nothing compared to being called a freak, maniac, scum. But he didn’t know how to react to this strange person, the president of the disciplinary committee of his school. Hibari Kyouya wasn’t anything like the bullies Harry was used to; he was different. He may have fierce eyes, but they weren’t full of desperate cruelty like his other classmates; they were arrogant and confident, assured of his power and abilities. Those eyes didn’t lie, they were calculative, yes, but not deceitful. If anything, they were thoughtful. He wasn’t tainted like the others; perhaps, he just didn’t know any other better way to express himself.

An annoyed and exasperated sigh sounded in the room, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. “Hibari-senpai, no, Kyouya, isn’t it time for your nightly patrol?”

Smirking a bit, Hibari stood up, walking towards the door. Just before he left, his parting words were, “Don’t think I acknowledge you yet, Sawada Tsunayoshi. So, don’t get too comfortable with calling me by my name, herbivore.”

Tsuna sighed heavily once the door closed behind the extremist prefect, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry about his behaviour, he isn’t the best at human interactions.”

An awkward silence reigned, before Harry offered quietly, “I can see. May I know where I am?”

“Ah, this’s my house, and this is the guestroom.” There was a short pause. “Or, well, it’s kind of your room now.”

“I see, I’m sorry for disturbing.

“I’m sorry, but why am I here?”

Clearing his throat, Tsuna didn’t reply for a while, fiddling with his fingers. “Ahem,” he coughed, looking away. “I kind of brought you back to your house but then someone really, _really_ oversized said he didn’t want you _so I took you back?_ ” He ended questioningly, his voice going squeaky near the end as cold sweat ran down his neck.

The lack of a befuddled or confused response let Tsuna slowly look back to Harry, who had his head bowed, and his fringe blocking his face from being seen clearly. When he replied, Tsuna could barely hear the slight tremor in his voice. But he did.

“I see. I’m terribly sorry for the trouble I caused. Thank you for your kind hospitality.” The formal tone caused Tsuna to sharpen his gaze and he stated seriously, “No, Potter-san. You’re now part of us, there’s no need for thanks.”

While he did expect some kind of a response, he did not quite expect the bitter laugh that burst out shortly, brokenly. In retrospective, Tsuna supposed telling someone that he was family after his own blood kin essentially threw him out to strangers was _not_ the greatest idea he ever had. Not that he usually came up with good ideas, but still. This was exceptionally insensitive of him. His concerned gaze just made the expression on Harry’s face more twisted, before it vanished behind a stoic mask.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t quite see how or why.”

“E-eh? But you went into the future…?”

It was like two daggers were stabbing into his still body, as Harry turned to look at Tsuna in the eye. “Yes. Let’s say that future is true, and we become… a family. Why? You don’t know me, nor do I know you. Why do you want me with you?  

“You know what my biological family is like. So how do I know you won’t be like them? How do you know I’m not the one at fault?”

“I don’t.”

“…” The short yet sure reply stopped Harry from continuing to ramble on.

Taking this chance, Tsuna hurried to explain himself. “It’s true I don’t have a proper reason for helping you. It’s true that I don’t know you, and that you can’t be sure that we won’t be like those people. It’s also true that partially, I’m only doing so much because the future you are part of my Famiglia.” He paused, realising he was only digging his own grave.

“But, there’s no need for a reason to help someone in need, is there?”

Caramel eyes burned bright orange, and imprinted themselves into Harry’s soul.

x

“Oomph,” a soft grunt sounded, as the owner landed upon the same cushioned seat, back in his true home. He rubbed the side of his pelvis slightly, before looking up at his family. Meeting their concerned eyes, he gave a soft smile. “I’m home?”

Beside him, he heard a sigh and then saw light brown hair shift. The future self of that little small insecure Tsuna was standing strong in front of him, with a smile full of confidence and love, and not the timid and awkward stretch of the lips from the past. His Boss bestowed upon him a gentle tight squeeze, and he smelled that divine fragrance again, the one that saved him all those years ago. It felt like it was a lifetime since then, but to think it was only ten years. Tsuna grasped his shoulders, and looked at him in the eye, sunrise eyes sparkling.

“Welcome home.”

Everyone else kept silent, understanding exactly how he felt. But they all stood where he could see, and he could feel their Flames reaching out to his, intermingling, resonating. And he smiled.

Harry’s eyes shone, filled with a mixed plethora of emotions he could hardly bring himself to articulate. So instead of doing the impossible, he just repeated what he said, with a full heart.

“I’m home.”

 

 

 

 

 

[1] Shelter, Protection – portrays security for someone so they will be free from any harm or wrong doing

[2] In Latin, it means to heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Currently, I have nothing in mind on how to continue, but I might if ideas come up! Perhaps I'll write more on what the Ring means, and what Harry as a "Guardian" does. But for now, this is it! Please leave a comment and have a go at my other works :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are much more than just dreams, and school is a disaster waiting to happen. But warmth lets Harry believe, and he can't help but hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Bullying, Coarse Language  
> Author’s Note: Wow, I have been overwhelmed by the level of enthusiasm you guys have shown at this work! Thank you for all the favourites and follows, they really motivate me to write more, which can get difficult at times. I only hope I can continue to deliver and meet your expectations. I'm sorry it took me more than a year to get this out, I had my GCSEs last year and now I'm much freer though plots are still hard to figure out haha.

 

* * *

_A flare of bright emerald green flashes in front of him, blinding him temporarily. Screams deafen him, and his entire body freezes in the face of peril, unknowing of his fate._

_Yet, a strong voice echoes throughout his bones, and his senses amplify at that very moment, everything washing over him._

_“Not him. Take me instead, leave Harry alone!”_

_A demonic chuckle rang sadistically in the room, haunting him throughout his life, but only brightening the fire in her eyes. A spotlight shines on the maniac laughing away, highlighting the high protruding cheekbones that cut, the straight nose, the thin lips and the blood red eyes. The cackle cuts off abruptly, and snarls rip out from the mouth, eyes fiery._

_“Move aside, you stupid woman. Give me the infant and I shall spare your life.” A hand stretches out demandingly, sharp nails curling in threateningly, glinting in the glare of the darkness and her brightness._

_“Never!” There is wind, and surrounding him is rose red hair and the scent of carnations **[1]** and holly **[2]**._

_The room lights up white, and for a short while, all he could see was her soft smile of love, and all he could hear was her comforting voice, “I love you”._

_Then, everything he ever loved and knew ends._

_He screams for her, crying ugly tears. Wind billows and curls and thrashes and_ pushes –

_And hell begins._

_Red eyes continue to burn malevolently._

-

And with his heart nearly beating out of his chest, his eyes flashed open in a panic, flicking towards his feet. Blurry shadows were encroaching, their terrifying teeth as sharp as knives in the shape of malicious grins, mouths open in anticipation. Horrified, his legs kicked ferociously at the unrecognisable monsters, managing to dislodge one of them before hurriedly backing up till his back hit an obstacle interfering with his escape. Searching for an exit with blind eyes, his limbs tried to crawl their way through the desperately grabby hands that clung on with unforgiving clutches.

No, it was too late; caught and even with all the struggling, there was no escape from these sticky, conniving hands he needed to run back to _h e r_ –

“Harry!”

Harry breathed in deeply.

And he saw the world again in its true light.

Caramel eyes struck his heart, and calmed it down all the same. He was not near red, he was far from red. His breathing still stuttered at odd time intervals, and it was difficult to hear himself being so weak, but it went away slightly when he saw the softness in Tsuna’s eyes. Slowly, he better recognised the room: the wooden floor, the crumpled futon, the bare basic furniture, his schoolbag at the side, the slight crack in the ceiling and the little dip in the wall beside the door. Then he saw the people again, as his eyes inevitably trailed back to them: Sawada with Tsuna’s soft hair and eyes, Gokudera with his crooked frown, Yamamoto with his flint smile, and the young children with their watery eyes.

Coughing, Harry managed to get out of his dry throat: “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t recognise you. I…”

Sawada just smiled, though his brows were furrowed. “Of course it’s fine,” he replied tentatively. “Is… You were crying in your sleep. Are you… feeling better?”

Shoulders drooped, back hunched and body curled, Harry could only say quietly, “… No, but thank you for asking.” Then, as though there were a flash of realisation, he asked, “Has much time passed since I slept? What about school?”

“Oh,” The brunette shrugged awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head abashedly. “My mum decided to call in sick for you, so you skipped school today and don’t have to go back until Monday.”

“There ain’t a problem with that arrangement, right?” Gokudera practically barked at him as he squared his shoulders while leaning forward intimidatingly from the door. Yamamoto only laughed in response, though his laugh had an undertone that sent shivers down Harry’s spine. Clamping up instinctively at this familiar show of aggression, Harry could only nod his head in acceptance. How was this different? He continued to mull over his thoughts in a silence which soon permeated the entire room.

Sawada fidgeted. The two guards simply stared at the two. The children dared not speak. Breathing became constricted.

_How was this different?_

Just then, knocking sounded. With a bright cheery demeanour, Nana walked in with a grin. “Hello there! You must be hungry, here!” She practically shoved a bowl of chicken porridge into Harry’s arms, fussing about him and tucking him in while encouraging him to eat. It was as though she were a trigger that let time flow again, and warmth to return. The children began to make a ruckus as per usual – “Mama!! I wanna eat too!” “Lambo, noisy! Quiet!” “Mama, can I have some too! It’s sooo yummy!” – and the postures of the teenagers relaxed. _The anchor of familial happiness…_

As the room’s focus zeroed in on Nana, Harry took the time to stare at the bowl cupped in his hands. Bite by bite, he slowly ate. He savoured every mouth, so full of warmth, so full of love, so full. The softness of white, the tenderness of beige, the freshness of green. He couldn’t help it; a smile slowly spread across his face, and his eyes became wetter. No one said a word about it, and they simply continued their shenanigans.

x

Tsuna was at a loss.

He took in this pitiable boy, so skinny and so small, because he was part of his Famiglia in the future. Because he was in a bad situation. Because he was a symbol of hope. A proof of the happiness to come.

Because Harry reminded Tsuna of the him from before.

A sigh left his body, deflating him like a pin taken to a balloon. He opened his eyes under furrowed brows, looking at his Famiglia, all gathered in his living room. Everyone looked back at him with a plethora of feelings: solemnness, confusion, determination, hope. But one emotion remained predominant in all eyes: trust.

Yet it was the one thing the young Mafiosi Boss could not envision the poorly teenager upstairs having.

Plopping onto the sofa, he let his head fall on the soft back, staring blankly at the ceiling. After Nana gave Harry porridge to eat, he soon fell asleep. It was to be expected of a victim recovering from regular periods of starvation and dehydration. Even with Ryohei’s Sun Flames, his body still required rest in order to rejuvenate himself and make a return from overtaxing himself. And while Harry rested, Tsuna was left once again to figure out exactly what he could do with Harry.

A civilian addition to the Famiglia.

Frustration swelled, and Tsuna let out another groan, only to be cut short by a sharp kick to the back of his head. “Uwah!” He screeched, clutching his head in pain. Turning his body round to face his assailant and holding his hands out in mid-air instinctually to give the universal sign of defeat, the brunette froze upon seeing black fiery eyes glare at him. Reborn stood tall at his height of 40 centimetres, arms crossed, harrumphing at the pathetic sight of his student.

He practically jumped when the baby barked at him. “Dame-Tsuna!”

“Hiee!” Tsuna stood still with his back ramrod straight, chin up, shoulders back, his posture perfect. With Tsuna’s whole attention on his tutor, Reborn continued, “You are no longer the flailing, stumbling idiot you were. You may still be useless in some areas, but you are not who you were. Buck up and remember you are the Tenth Vongola Boss, and that you have your Famiglia.” _Don’t forget we are here to help you, our Don, our Boss._ The statement was followed by Hayato and Ryohei’s exuberant exclamations of (extreme) loyalty, Takeshi’s warm chuckles, Lambo’s arrogant declaration of promised assistance, Mukuro’s snickers, Hibari’s quiet acquiescence, and the girls’ and children’s cheers.

Somehow Reborn just always knew the best things to say. Mouth crinkling and lips puckered in, Tsuna just nodded happily and energetically. He could barely keep his watery grin in. But judging by the others’ knowing looks (accompanied by disgust and affection for some), they saw through him completely. The young Don just tried to bury his face and neck into his collar and shoulders, face aflame. He couldn’t help but feel warm.

Yes, Tsuna was at a loss, but at least he knows he’s not alone.

x

_There is darkness, then sparks. Embers light up and soon flames are flickering, following an undetected current. The array of swirling rainbow colours at the ground transforms into a roaring torrent that threatens to split the earth and bring forth chaos. But upon a tentative touch, there is only warmth: a warmth a child feels upon resting their head on their mother’s lap, a warmth that envelopes rather than swallows, a warmth that the sun shines upon the wildflowers. He embraces it, flames licking at his skin gently, cradling his face. Red, White and Blue trickle out of the storm, and fall to him. White twirls and swims around playfully, tinkling, forming a small hummingbird with wings of fire. It nudges his cheek lovingly, then pecks at him, nipping at his hand until he follows._

_Who are you? It echoes in silence. Only flutters reply him as the small bird hovers in the air in front of him, snipping through the air, guiding him in the strangely comforting quiet. Cherry trots and Garnet skips alongside Azure’s prowls, the two Reds chasing each other occasionally with the Blue always reining them in. There is peace. There is comfort in the heat they emanate._

_Then, there is a leap of colours as the flames waver. Energy rises, the flames wind around him in a flurry, but eventually they fade. They fall. The surroundings darken into a black abyss, before Sangria suddenly pounces and burns him – the bird explodes in white – and he is alone again. Again._

_There is only darkness as Sangria haunts his steps. He closes his eyes. Walking, walking, walking, he stays in the labyrinth. His eyes remain closed. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he doesn’t open his eyes, White, Cherry, Garnet and Azure will still be there. He can still feel the lingering warmth from the peck to his cheek._

_Tears drip down his face. He walks and walks and falls. Sangria creeps through his shadows and digs claws into his flesh. Blood pools around him, and he is slowly sinking. He is closed._

_And there is Sunset shimmering through the dark of his eyes and his world. His burned hands slowly raise, and he feels warmth. Emerald glistens, and White shines, dispersing the darkness._

_He could hear tinkling again._

-

Harry laid in the futon, staring at the ceiling blankly. Sniffling, he hesitantly wiped at the wetness on his face, fingers lingering on his cheek. He let out a sigh and grit his teeth. Knocking at the door prompted him to sit up straight, just as Nana peeked in. A soft smile on her face paired with gentle eyes lowered his anxiety yet strangely heightened it all the same. He could feel the wetness welling in his eyes again. Coughing to cover up his embarrassment, he rubbed his eyes before quietly asking, “Is there something I could do for you, Mrs Sawada?”

She simply giggled and chirped, “Nana is fine! Or better yet, call me Mama!” Then she gazed at the poor child’s shrunken look with compassionate eyes. “Would you… like to help me with breakfast?” she asked him almost shyly, her big eyes expectant.

Who was Harry to say no?

x

Nana always had good intuition – her husband often joked to himself that it was as though women’s intuition could rival the Primo’s revered Hyper Intuition. She always knew just when Iemitsu would come home, finished with her preparations for his return in the form of a magnificent feast fit for an emperor, just in time for when he stepped in. She always knew when Tsuna got back his results as well, sneaking a glimpse while he was asleep, pretending to be oblivious the next morning.

Nana may be happy-go-lucky, but she was _far_ from being an idiot.

Coupled with her eagle vision, few things could confound her. Though, these skills did push her to make difficult decisions.

It often pained her to deflect Tsuna’s innocent questions about who and where his father was when he was younger, and the knife dug deeper into her heart when he grew up learning to simply stop bothering about him, and others around him. He developed a defence mechanism where he wouldn’t think about anything, and he would simply accept things as they were without question. She didn’t doubt that he truly believed he was useless, and that he detested himself. Nothing much escaped the young mother, not even his scars and it hurt.

Because try as she might, she could not control the attitude of the people gathering around him. She had no power to change people. Even though Nana had a tongue of silver and could make someone bleed without bloodshed or them understanding, she could not protect him when she was absent from his side. She could only put on a smile at home around him and nod her head when he lies to her that the bruises are from his clumsy falls at the park, when he lies to her that he lost his things due to his bad memory, when he lies to her that he’s fine.

She had to swallow her fury and pretend and _pretend_ , because if she didn’t, they would be in danger. People would pester them, and should the wrong word slip out, they would be goners. The dark figures and vehicles that lurk at the edges whenever they left town were always spotted by her. Sometimes she saw glints of metal when the light shone in the right direction. Her guts would always tangle when she saw them, and they had yet to prove her wrong. Protecting her family was of utmost priority – even if there had to be compensation for her actions. Her family, her son was everything to her. They had to stay in Namimori. They had to. Her light would simply have to be bright enough at home that it outshined all shadows creeping in. For her son, she would do anything.  Even be a pierrot. 

So, her eyes had become sharp enough to catch all the small details, trained to allow her to intercept certain events before they even happened. If there was a chance she could protect her son without exposing her thirst for their blood, she would take it and make full use of it before the hunters even knew they were culled.

And now she found someone else to protect too.

Chocolate eyes lingered on calloused and scabbed fingers. As the slender digits held the knife steadily while cutting vegetables skilfully, her gaze travelled up to Harry’s relaxed shoulders and lowered head. The brunette noticed his fingers when he first took up the spoon to eat her porridge the previous days; they were covered by cuts and scars, even burn marks. They told tales of a person who was used to doing chores and cooking. Since his body just screamed tension the whole weekend where he was told to simply rest and do nothing, Nana figured he would appreciate some normalcy and routine to exert some pent-up energy. Seeing how Harry became much more relaxed, she hummed happily as they cooked together.

In quiet harmony, they worked together, filling the kitchen with only the sound of cutting and frying, and the tantalising scents of rice, fish and egg. When Nana accidentally bumped into Harry, they just looked at each other, and smiled, albeit hesitantly on his part. Watching him plate the finished dishes, her cheery mask cracks into a gentle expression.

Her eyes never failed her before, and they wouldn’t now either.

x

When the entourage entered the dining room, they paused to take in the strange sight of the British teenager up and walking, setting the table for breakfast. Stranger yet was the tilt of the corner of his lips, at least until Harry saw them and completely shut off his emotions with a stoic façade. Awkwardly, the tenth generation of the great Vongola Famiglia conducted their normal routine.

They all sat at their default seats, and thanked Nana warmly for the food. However, they were met with another surprise as she credited some of the hard work to Harry, who just looked down at the table, averting eye contact. Tsuna breathed out in relief. At least there was something going well, he thought, smiling at how Nana fussed over Harry and his meal. But he supposed having an awkward meal like that was to be expected: the atmosphere was so heavy and stiff, he felt like his whole body was too difficult to move.

Hayato for one kept twitching, Takeshi’s smile was stiffer, Reborn’s posture was straighter, though the children and Nana ate normally in their bubble of happiness and stars and flowers. Then there was Harry, who kept his head lowered and his shoulders hunched while eating quietly, as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible to escape notice. Unable to keep in his disappointment, Tsuna sighed.

When breakfast was finally over, they all prepared for school. Harry went back upstairs to change into his uniform since he helped cook in his borrowed pyjamas, and the other three students wore their shoes after taking their bentos Nana prepared. By the time Harry came down, they were all waiting for him outside the open door. Heart speeding up, he tried to rush and join them, but was stopped by a pleasant surprise.

“Harry~” Nana softly called after him. “Here’s your bento, have a good day at school!” Presenting him with his own bento, she cupped his hands as he accepted with both rough hands. Hand patting his head comfortingly, she continued with a smile, “Don’t push yourself too hard, alright? You’re still recovering, so just come home early if you need to.” A large grin painted her face as she posed with her arm flexed, the other hand pushing up her sleeve to show off the muscle. “I’ll deal with the pesky teachers, no need to fear!”

He could only blink. Emerald eyes flickered from her open face to her hands to her gift to her face again. Mouth open; what could he say? What could _ever_ be adequate to describe his feelings? His breath hitched, and his heart skipped a beat. Lost for words, Harry just stared at kind Nana, eyes shining bright.

Hugging the bento tightly, he nodded and joined the other students.

He had a smile on his face the whole time they walked.

x

Unfortunately, the light air did not last when they neared Namimori Middle School. Students started to notice the strange mixture of people in their group – namely how a foreigner like Harry was interacting with the notorious group of weirdos. Whispers surrounded them, and soon it was all they could hear.

_“Why’s he walking with the bunch of weirdos?”_

_“Freaks belong with freaks, as expected.”_

_“Hah, should’ve known the_ gaijin _ **[3]**_ _would gang up with the losers like the worms they are.”_

_“Ew, why are they all together?”_

_“Is he that desperate?”_

_“Wow, I’m actually pitying those youngsters for having to put up with him.”_

The light that had started shining in his eyes dulled, and Harry just bit the inside of his bottom lip. Other than that, there were no signs of him even hearing those harsh words. Gokudera practically vibrated in anger, but Tsuna just laughed it all off awkwardly, more concerned about Harry than what others were saying about himself and his friends.

He didn’t have the capacity to care about what others had to say when he was busy finding a path for his Famiglia as the future Don. Civilian matters like these would eventually fade away in the background – his Famiglia was always going to be the priority.

But Harry never had something so concrete to hang on to. So why did he seem so used to such flippantly stabbing remarks? 

Tsuna glanced behind at Harry trudging slowly, eyes dark as though the shutters were closed. He knitted his brows in worry, frowning.

Clicking his tongue, Gokudera glared venomously at the crowding cowards who only know to hide in the shadows and stab others in the back.

When they finally reached the entrance, Harry quietly slinked off to his classroom after a nod to the rest, with Tsuna staring at his back.

A sigh escaped the young Boss, then he and his friends walked off to class as well, an ominous feeling lingering.

x

_Ring._

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to get rid of his headache. _I guess I’m still not fully recovered…_ Regardless, he managed to get through half the day and he can now get some rest. He couldn’t help but smile when he opened his schoolbag to see the bento Nana prepared for him.

Tentatively, he unwrapped the cloth and opened the lunchbox, only to softly chuckle at the cartoon lunch inside. The onigiris were shaped like pandas, there were octopus-shaped wieners, carrot stars and even flowers made of ham strips with omelettes in the centre. It was the epitome of cute homely cooking that parents made for their young children, and Harry’s heart made an embarrassing thump upon seeing it. Never having had such love put into physical form for him, this childish bento was almost a dream come true.

Eagerly taking up his chopsticks, Harry was about to dig in when shadows lurked in front of him, blocking the light. His heart grew heavy, but he continued with his meal, savouring the taste. An annoyed click of a tongue made swallowing difficult and curling into a ball more appealing, but again, he paid no attention.

“Hey, ain’t your lunch cute?”

“Hah, it’s fit for trash just like you.”

“Really? I think it’s too good for him. I mean, he’s resorted to hanging out with that Dame-Tsuna and his bunch of losers – doesn’t that just say how much of a sucker he is?”

The group chortled nastily. Harry continued, but the remark at the end made biting soft rice less and less satisfying. If only he was eating something firmer, something chewier, something… _meatier_.

A smirking mouth snarled, with sharp eyes glinting, “Oh, I know what would made this better for trash, here”. A cruel hand tilted a cold can, and bubbling soda was poured into the brightly coloured food. Brown tainted everything, washing the pure colours away. Before Harry’s eyes, another cold hand knocked the entire container off his table and onto the floor. Emerald eyes followed the rice panda as it flew almost slowly to the floor, its head splitting into two, its smiling seaweed mouth melting into a frown in a pool of soda.

“Oops, my hand slipped. Sorry pal.”

Malicious snickers sounded around him. It wasn’t just the few in front of him – he felt scornful eyes from all directions zeroing on him and his throat shut close. Everything was closing in around him, and all he could see was the muddied panda: once pure white, shaped by kind hands.

Unable to keep up his nonchalant mask, Harry stared hard at the offending _boys_ laughing in front of him. A surge of fury rose in his blood body soul, and a flash of white embers clouded his vision, and he could _see_.

-

_With a thought, Harry can stop their lungs, their breathing, their lives. The boys will stand still, chests unmoving. They can’t breathe – they will struggle, but the exertion of energy is in vain and only colours their face a dull purple quicker. They will choke and sputter, and the end will still come to them._

_Harry can even increase the rate of their digestion: even without substantial food in their stomachs, the gastric acid will eat anything at all, even their own stomachs. The acid will digest the delicate lining in their stomachs, and destroy it, allowing it to dig into their inner organs. Eventually, holes will open up and the fluid will leak and seep into other organs as well. If Harry works hard enough, the acid can even feed on the heart, painfully, slowly, so every burn is felt deep within them as they suffer through the torture of being eaten alive by themselves._

_Or perhaps, the heart itself can be stopped easily enough. Without blood pumping, the body becomes stiff, unable to move. But the brain will be alive, working still, and they can witness how they are dying even with each breath they take. Oxygen will then fail to travel to the brain, and the light in their eyes will slowly burn out, dull. The heart could even be quickened, halting their breathing. Their heads will become light, and everything will turn into a blur._

_But changing the time of their hearts will be too easy, too_ nice _. So, Harry should focus on other aspects instead. He can age their blood vessels and quicken the rush of blood, until they burst in their brains. Painful, deadly, but slow. Agonising._

_He can age their bodies horrifyingly quickly, so they turn into old men full of wrinkles at the ripe age of 17. They will shriek in terror, unable to believe their eyes as they turn to seek their friends’ help. But they will be shunned as freaks, disgusted by all others. They will hide away, traumatised and unable to show their faces again, dying lonely and cold._

_So many choices to make… so many ways to make them suffer. So many ways to bring pain._

_Just a thought…_

_White flames dances around him, and he smiles._

-

“-ey! Hey! Don’t fucking ignore us you piece of shit.”

With a deep breath, Harry’s eyes glazed over and he slid to the floor. He picked up the pitiful drenched panda. Sticky, but still edible. So, he just continued to eat off the ground, uncaring of the gasps.

Nana made it for him, so he would finish it all. Even if it killed him, he would not let it go.

Because it was the first time someone gave him something so sweet without thinking. Something so kind. Something so loving.

No one ever treated him so kindly before: in England, he did manage to make a few secret friends, but even they were often reluctant to associate with him, Dudley’s scraggly and hated cousin. In Japan, it was presumptuous of him to think that he had a chance at all, when he was the personification of different with his skin colour, his hair, his eyes. Bullying came naturally when he was so used to being afraid and tense around others – he was an easy target that practically asked to be bullied apparently.

Being constantly anxious of others only invited more explosive temperaments to gather around him, and more trouble.

Not even the teachers stepped in, not when they themselves held the same discriminatory views against _gaijins._ Harry always thought to himself wryly that society’s habit of ignoring the unpleasant didn’t help either.

Therefore, he was going to hold tightly onto any form of kindness he could get, even in his dying breath.

x

So focused was he on finishing his meal, Harry didn’t notice his classmates becoming quieter. He only shifted his attention as he dodged the body nearly falling on him. Lifting his gaze, he makes eye contact with Hibari who had his tonfa out. Evidently, Hibari bit the harassing classmates to death, presumably for disrupting the class, judging by the fallen bodies around the British teenager. The head of the disciplinary committee then walked over to Harry, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silent classroom, suddenly empty of people.

With strength unexpected from someone so lithe, Hibari grabbed Harry’s arm and lifted him up to stand up straight. Then, he squeezed his cheeks, angling Harry’s face so that they would make eye contact and closing off all escape routes.

“Where,” Hibari’s deep voice seemed to echo throughout Harry’s bones. “Where’s your strength? Show me that killing intent the kid says you have.”

Even though Harry had been calm, his words stirred something harshly within him, and fire burned in his eyes.

With white fiery eyes, Harry quietly stated, “I don’t hurt the weak.”

Quiet for a moment, Hibari released Harry with a weird smile, and left the classroom.

Relieved that his monstrously strong classmate left him alone, Harry sighed, then sucked in another breath.

Who was going to clean up the thrashed classroom?

x

Orange colouring the classroom, Harry stayed seated. Alone in the room, he fiddled with his fingers.

Where was he supposed to go? Could he simply go to the Sawada residence again, or was it merely a temporary arrangement while he was sick?

Was he supposed to go back to the Dursleys’?

Swallowing, he reluctantly took out a piece of crumpled paper. Once flattened out, it was clear that it was the directions to the Dursleys’. His breathing stuttered, and he felt weaker. A slow burning gathered in his eyes, and his body grew colder, goosebumps rising on his arms.

Before he could overthink further, a knock broke his train of thought, and his head turned to the source with a snap. The sight of Sawada and company, including the older Ryohei, and Kyoko and Hana waiting at the door nurtured the seed of warmth in his chest. Sawada shyly announced their entrance, “H-hey, we waited at the school gate but you didn’t come so we came to find you and – ” He cleared his throat and stopped his rambling when Gokudera placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

He breathed.

A gentle smile on his face, Sawada offered, “Let’s go home.”

Home? A home – mine?

Biting the inside of his lips to the point of unbearable pain, Harry nodded carefully, and picked up his schoolbag, following after the big group of sunniness.

He still couldn’t fully trust them, not when they just met and barely knew each other.

But as he gazed upon their backs, with all of them smiling and joking around, he felt hopeful. The bud grew stronger when Sawada turned around to grin at him.

_Maybe, maybe, this might just work._

Harry could even smell dandelions[4] in the air.

 

 

 

[1] Fascination; Divine Love

[2] Defense; Domestic Happiness

[3] Gaijin – a Japanese term for “The Foreigner/Outsider”; depending on context it can be a derogatory term

[4]  Oracle of Time and Love; Faithfulness; Happiness; Prophet


	3. In Chrome's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She abhorred the presence of Harry Potter in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my take on what Chrome thinks about Harry! I'm probably going to pepper the main story (of mostly anecdotes) with these interludes from other characters' POV which will ideally let me write faster in between my days off :-) Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> Check the notes at the end for trigger warnings!

 

Chrome could only stare up at the ceiling, hugging her pillow tight. Frowning, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed. It was weird for her to feel such negativity, especially when her life had become so much brighter ever since she met Mukuro and later Tsuna. But, at that very moment, she felt a dark hatred seep into every fibre of her being, taking root in every cell.

She hated the sounds of crying that echoed throughout her whole body. She despised the breaks in breathing, the ugly ballooning pauses before exploding to show their insides.

 _She abhorred the presence of Harry Potter in her life_.

But more than anything, she just wanted every reminder **out**.

Turning from side to side, she sighed, knowing that she would be unable to go back to sleep. Dauntingly dragging her feet, she left her room. The haunting sobbing echoed throughout her bones. Hairs on her arms rising, the petite girl’s fist rose as if to knock on the door in front of her, but then it sank back to her side, lying uselessly.

A single purple eye stared at the door in front of her, and she left, leaving behind a name sign: _Harry Potter._

* * *

 

Harry Potter was irritating.

While everyone was happily discussing about their day and anticipating their training after lunch, he sat there, quiet and alone. It was as though there was an invisible line drawing a boundary between the tenth generation Vongola Famiglia and him. Just Harry Potter. Like Day and Night, there was a different atmosphere to each side. Tsuna was this open sky that welcomed them in harmony, while Harry was this shell clammed shut, preventing anyone from drawing closer to his soft vulnerable insides.

The sight made the Mist Guardian’s insides twist, illusionary as they were. She could see everything with her borrowed power; the cold foreign white flame nearing the soft beloved orange embers, then snapping back to wrap tightly around Harry, as though burned before it could touch Tsuna. So many strands danced in the air around the brunette, yearning for contact, always reaching and reaching but never touching. Something always stopped them, even though the craving was so intense they quivered. Chrome knew what it was.

Condemnation — the word she would use to describe Harry. Even when light was shining upon him, condemnation stuck his feet to the ground, preventing them from moving forward. Nothing can penetrate the barrier of guilt when he himself was the source. Nothing could save him when his own fingers cut off his safe-line.

It was when Chrome finally put her finger on that word that she saw clearly: Harry Potter was utterly, helplessly  _weak_.  

* * *

It wasn’t as though she didn’t understand — it was a problem because she  _could_  understand, so so so much. They were so similar her heart stopped a couple beats whenever he did something she once did, still does.

If only she hadn’t been so careless that day, she wouldn’t have gotten into the accident, she wouldn’t have lost almost all her insides, she wouldn’t have cost so much, she wouldn’t have been abandoned, she wouldn’t have... If only she had met everyone under normal circumstances, maybe she would have had both her family and friends. Maybe she would have a peaceful happy life.

But life cannot be built on  _if only_. Because trading away any yesterdays would mean trading away today. And today was so beautiful, so full of love and warmth and acceptance. To reject today because of yesterdays was to turn away from their reward for enduring.

Maybe he’s hurt, and he’s built a wall to protect himself, but to refuse himself a refuge of peace and comfort after suffering for so long was horrifying. Life surely was something greater than past fears and regrets — the beauty in life was the hope tomorrow brings, even if shadows can be so dark light becomes intimidating.

Because what else were they still living for, but a warmer future?

But if Harry Potter continued to be so pessimistic, letting so much pass him by because of his inability to look beyond his past, Chrome would never acknowledge him as part of her Boss’s Famiglia — never a person whose fear crippled rather than motivated them, whose fear prevented them from seeing past imaginary threats and seeing her beloved Boss who shone so brightly in the dark.

A purple eye merely continued to observe and wait.

* * *

And so her waiting lasted days, weeks, months and _years_ – even though it only lasted a few weeks, the time passed excruciatingly slow and fast for her.

She watched Harry slowly enter the room silently, then less hesitantly with a small smile, then almost boldly with lips bitten in fear and determination. She watched Harry stay quiet during gatherings, then answer questions directly when addressed, then initiate and continue conversations with a trembling voice. It was like she were a bystander of a chick’s life journey; a stumbling chick’s transformation into a strong eagle.

There was such growth, but the valleys between the mountains made her feel as though his falls could one day kill him.

So she kept watch, always looking at him with her lone eye.

* * *

 

She heard the sobbing again at night, and once again, she dragged her feet off her bed and unto the floor.

_Thud, thud, thud._

_Thud,                                 thud,_

_thud._

_Creak_

_– a gasp –_

Once she reached him, there was only a second of silence before she collapsed around him, hugging him tightly. Red dyed the edge of her clothes, and his violent tremors shook her own body. Pinching her lips together in a firm line, she clasped his trembling hands, and threw away the razor blade that slit into her own skin – it slid across the floor. A metallic clang sounded in the tiny toilet.

His muffled screams echoed against her collarbone.

Softly, she tried to shush him, but to no avail. So, she sang. It was a painfully nostalgic lullaby a once precious person sang to her once upon a time, but it was all she had to offer. Heart heavy, face wet, her mouth opened. Singing and singing, her voice went hoarse before he fell into a fitful sleep in her cold arms, on the chilled floor.

Even then, she continued to sing.

She wanted to sing until the red evaporated from the floor, the blade, the skin; until the sour smell dissipated from the air; until the tortured moans of “I’m sorry I’m worthless I’m empty” sank into the deep deep sea.

She wanted to sing until the raspberry blossoms[1] in their skins withered.

              But he wasn’t awake to hear it.

* * *

 

With blurry eyes, Chrome opened her door to a shamefaced Harry.

“I’m sorry I kept you up so late and troubled you so much, it won’t happen again.”

_I’ll be better at keeping quiet next time_

And her heart shattered into a thousand million pieces. So did her mask.

She didn’t hate Harry Potter; she had only empathy for him.

Snatching him into a fierce embrace, she shook her head violently, clutching him desperately. Her breath stopped in her chest, unable to rise or lower without a disgusting wet noise, and her pants were loud in their craze.  

She remembered the icy touch of metal on her skin, the sweet pain of blood, the crushing despair of guilt. She remembered the looks, the sneers, the pity. She remembered the loneliness, the feel of bare cemented edge, the high winds whipping against her face.

She didn’t want Harry to ever feel the same.

What she hated was the system that had put them in such desperate positions – the society that had abandoned them.

And she shed tears for them both, for the weak that were left behind, like weeds left to grow in an unwanted garden.

But weeds thrive in any environment they are left in.

Nothing can stop them.

“Don’t – Just, just come to me next time.”

_You’re not alone._

His shaking hand grasped her shirt, slightly at first, as though to allow her space to run away to, then tightly, as though to anchor himself.

Syringas[2] bloomed at the edge of her windowsill.

 

 

 

 

[1] Regret, Remorse

[2] You shall be happy yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: hints of self-harm, bulimia, suicidal thoughts


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life wasn't all bad, there were its ups and downs, but that's what life was about, right?   
> Life was good, life was better.   
> Yet not all was going well in the Sawada residence.   
> Not really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm super stoked that I managed to complete this chapter today before I go for work tomorrow ;; These few days I've been writing more instead of drawing, which I would never have thought would happen haha. Please continue keeping an eye out for the next interlude coming up, though after that things may go back to the long long breaks in between. Hope you enjoy this chapter!   
> By the way, in case you haven't cottoned on, x means a change of perspective while - means another scene from the same perspective.

Softly blowing on the steaming bite, his mouth closing around the spoon. Splitting in his mouth was the sweet aroma and taste of homeliness and love. Shivers ran up his spine, the mouthful a spike to his energy. Soft and mellow; comfort was the only thing brought to him by the delight.

Quietly humming in satisfaction, Harry smiled at Nana when she looked up from her own lunch. She returned the smile with an even brighter one, though she quickly turned to chide Lambo into eating his food and not stuffing his bazooka canon with it. He did concede, albeit while pouting, with I-Pin nagging him and Fuuta giggling behind his bowl of miso soup.

As a hint of a smile lingered on his lips, his green eyes turned to look at the others at the extended table. With it being the weekend, everyone came around in the morning for their weekly gatherings, making for a rambunctious bunch that filled the house with noise.

Gokudera was again plating up Sawada’s food while glaring at Yamamoto who was laughing at Sasagawa with his full mouth open. Sawada just laughed helplessly, while trying to “wrestle” back his plate from his right-hand man (though it was truly more of a pleading swiping of the hands than anything truly aggressive). The younger Sasagawa, Kurokawa and Miura were chatting with the quieter Dokuro, while Rokudo listened in with a sneering smile, as was his default expression. Hibari merely ate quietly and efficiently, though his sharp glare at the whole table betrayed his inner rage at the “crowding herbivores that threatened the (his) quiet”.

Harry laughed inwardly and resumed his lunching.

Brown eyes looked at him and the gleam in his eyes and the light dancing across his face, and they softened into melted chocolate.

x

It had been a week since Harry joined them.

A long, hard week of accommodating each other and their habits and sharing space. It was tough, but somehow, there was progress.

Though he was no where near being comfortable enough with them that he would laugh or talk more than necessary, it was obvious that Harry was relaxing bit by bit. His violent flinches whenever there were raised voices and unannounced appearances in the room had lessened to where he would only stop his actions momentarily before resuming. The gradual relaxation in his body made the others less tense as well; after all, it made them anxious to have to reel their natural selves in and step lightly around a new member too.

Interestingly, Tsuna could see how everyone was interacting with Harry now that the tension levels had somewhat levelled, analysing the patterns.

The whole day, he observed.

With the morning starting off quiet, the house was mostly filled by the sound of crockery and chopping, the boiling of the water, the whistling of the kettle, and soft humming. Flooding the building with fragrance of warmth, the two cooks were busying themselves preparing breakfast.

Tsuna watched them in their silent synchronised dance from the door. He couldn’t help but smile sometimes, when he saw the natural bond that had sprouted between the two.

Of course, Nana had the best relationship with Harry. An aura of warmth always saturated the two in their bubble, and she was still the only one he would really smile at – sometimes, seeing that made his own heart twinge a bit.

He still remembered the days when Nana too called him “No-Good Tsuna”.

After Nana, it was Ryohei next who surprisingly had the best relationship with their new family member: he always treated Harry warmly and gently, in a manner almost opposite of his usual loud self. His brass manners seemed to just vanish whenever Harry was around, and his aggressiveness transformed into something soft and malleable, changing into whatever that would be better appreciated and needed.

As they all worked on clearing their schoolwork in the morning, Tsuna saw from the periphery of his eyes Ryohei teaching Harry in a normal, indoors voice. Even then, as his gaze lingered on them, the over-the-top boxer made sure to make no abrupt movement and keep his hands within view, always giving the British teenager enough time to adjust himself if uncomfortable. Green eyes tracked the hand on the pen, darting with it as it whizzed around on the paper.

Hibari was there as well, though he was again resting against the wall with Hibird nesting on his head. The Disciplinary Committee President was above doing work like the rest of them plebeians – he merely observed them and took his self-proclaimed job as “peace-keeper” very seriously. The glint of light bouncing off his tonfas never failed to prevent the noise level from rising and conflicts from bursting out.

While the rest of the Vongola Famiglia of Namimori sat around the table together, it was Chrome and Mukuro in particular who peaked Tsuna’s interest. The two didn’t attend school, but the young girl completed the work Kyoko, Hana and Haru compiled for her, upon her own request to have a “proper” education. Mukuro on the other hand only looked on lazily, chin on his hand, leaning against Chrome, watching over her shoulder. 

They sat at the opposite end of the table where Harry and himself were sitting. Chrome for one, Tsuna noticed, avoided Harry, as though he were a plague that brought death with him. Even though she was sitting at the farthest edge away from him, it was abnormal how she made sure to never look at Harry, or even in his general direction. If she needed to ask anyone on his side anything, she resolutely did not raise her head or make any eye contact at all. That was her general behaviour throughout Harry’s stay: distant and aloof.

Mukuro too only bore an almost ephemeral curiosity about Harry – there was nothing lasting, only brief glances that seemed to bounce off the subject in question. There was nothing piercing, nothing deeper than the superficial. It seemed almost unlike him, the maniac who wanted to know absolutely everything, to ignore a source of mystery and unknown Flames. But that was what he did; ignoring Harry.

However, while both Mist Flame users ignored the newest presence, it was seemingly borne out of different reasons. Chrome’s was almost out of fear with her twitches when she catches sight of him, while Mukuro’s was simply out of… boredom?

Shaking his head and trying to focus on Hayato’s teachings, Tsuna tried to ease himself: their life together had only just started, of course they weren’t going to be chummy with each other now. Bonds take time, they couldn’t be rushed. As he watched his family around the table light up when Nana brought them snacks, a smile came to his face. Everything’s going to be alright.

“Hey, Lambo! Get your own snacks, don’t steal from our table!”

Immediately, there was the sound of metal hitting the table lightly and threateningly, with throats gulping after.

Chuckling, Tsuna went back to his work.

This was his new Famiglia.

-

Perhaps his wish was not meant to be.

Laying on his back on his bed, he glanced at the door, before diverting his gaze back to the ceiling.

It was happening again; the brunette could hear the muffled shouts from down the hallway, the bond of white and orange pulsing in his blood, forcing him to listen and listen and listen.

Tsuna shut his eyes so tightly he saw white spots dancing behind his eyelids.

His heart raced. His fists clenched tighter. He bit down hard on the inside of his bottom lip. Metal.

What could he do to help?

He didn’t even know what to say or do, let alone how.

No one ever really helped him before. What could he base his own actions on then?

 

_What could **he** do?_

 

All he could do was to listen to the sobs and screams and _listen_. To the heart ache, to the sorrow, to the abyss of Harry’s mind.

Hand reaching out, mouth dry –

 

             He turned away from the door.

x

Ever since that night, Dokuro hardly left Harry alone. They didn’t talk much, considering the shy and reserved nature of them both. However, it was as though the weeks of shaking silence never happened. In fact, the very next morning, she took his hand and brought him to Nana. Even as Harry’s breathing quickened and shortened, she grasped his hand, her hold tightening.

She became his anchor.

Slowly, steadily, his breathing normalised, and he could look at Nana in the eyes. Shaking he may be, but there was someone beside him. There was a warmth; it was different from the kind he felt from Nana and Tsuna from the future. From them, it was a warmth of their encompassing shadow and love.

From her was a warmth of a body standing next to him, of a hand in his.

She was standing with him.

Breath leaving his body in a shudder, he spoke with a wavering voice, determined but afraid.

“Nana… I’m sorry but, do you… do you mind giving me less food?” Seeing the confusion in her face, he hurried to explain. “I love your cooking, but after… after my _circumstances_ , I... I’m afraid I can’t eat it all…”

“Oh,” Nana’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course I don’t mind. But… you’ve been eating everything so well I thought…”

Pause. Eyes tracked down his body that was just as skinny as before, landing on the sharp jut of his wrist.

Softly she spoke again with her breath trickling out unsteadily, “ _Oh Harry…_ ” Like water, there was a ripple spreading across her face as the stone hit the surface. Her lips trembled slightly before she let out a deep gust of air and smiled. “No worries, it’s already done.” Like water, her face returned to her calm mask, even though there was so much drowning underneath.

With a wavering smile of his own, Harry returned the kind gesture. Shoulders lightened and the pit in his stomach filled, he glanced back at her face next to his. She noticed and smiled awkwardly, the corner of her eyes crinkling like the streaks of light left by shooting stars across the night sky.

The grasp on his hand tightened, and he squeezed back.

-

Bright lights threatened to blind him, even as he watched through squinted eyes.

As though at a rave, rainbows covered the porch with Flames lighting up and shooting across the grounds. Currently, most of the Guardians were trying to expand their arsenal on melee fighting and shooting skills, as well as their “Flame Stamina”. After their fights in the future, it was excruciating to see themselves like little chicks still wobbling in the mafia world, to see how they couldn’t fight with their Flames for longer than a few minutes, to see how they could hardly fight at all without their Flames. Like children playing pirates, their bodies couldn’t keep up with the farce – it was depressing to say the least. So, they had to push themselves and train their ability to generate Flames, and their fighting skills to compensate for their shortcomings in the other aspect.

It was always interesting, and slightly terrifying, to see the huge flames appearing and seemingly spurting into disappearance as the users panted. In the midst of it all, Harry just sat at his edge of the platformed floor of the living room, watching from the opened glass doors. Breath escaping his lungs, he simply felt. Even though the flames were so big, and he should be scared of being burnt alive, the temperature was soothingly warm. The blasts of warm air were surprisingly lovely to feel, and his hair ruffled from the gusts of wind.

Stranger still was the warmth he felt from inside. In rhythm with the momentum of flames bursting, pulses of warmth drummed inside. It was as though he could see white sparks exploding behind his eyelids, and also coursing through his body whenever the others drew out their flames. White intertwining with red orange yellow green blue purple indigo…

_Resonance._

Harry opened his eyes again. Flinching slightly after seeing everyone crowding him in, he looked around curiously. The sun had already gone down, dying them in a soft orange hue.

“Harry-san, are you alright?” asked Sawada, his brows furrowed and his clear forehead lined.

Before he could reply, Chrome interjected by placing her forehead against Harry’s, staring with great focus at him in the eye. “No fever, pupils are of a normal size…” she muttered softly, retreating from a blushing Brit. “Portion was good, didn’t go to the toilet… What’s wrong? You’ve been sitting there for a while.”

Taking time to calm his heart, Harry let go of the tension that knotted his stomach once he saw no escape routes, and relaxed. Voice steady, he replied, “I’m not sure. I just… saw white? Not like a whiteout,” he reassured Chrome. “More like… small white, embers? Yes, embers sparking whenever you were practising your use of Flames.”

Everyone seemed to still when he mentioned the colour. At that moment, he saw another vision of them, all just collapsing and disappearing in front of his eyes like ashes blown away by the wind…

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Reborn who broke the silence with a nod of his fedora. “It’s not unheard of for users to see signs of their Flames before they ‘activate’ it. Perhaps it is time that you try to use _your_ own Flames as well.” Nodding towards Kurokawa Hana, Sasagawa Kyoko and Miura Haru, he continued. “Those three have been doing well with their training, you’ll do fine as well.

“Now,” Reborn leapt down from his position at Yamamoto’s shoulder to the ground in front of Harry. A gleam shone in his black eyes as the sunlight hit against his face, colouring him a deep red. “It’s your choice, Harry Potter: will you learn or continue being a sitting duck?”

There was never really a choice.

-

“Are you ready?”

He closed his eyes while slowly breathing in and out deeply –

“Yes.”

He searched, he searched for that thread deep inside him – the line of connection between himself and the rest, the pulses that made him more alive than he had ever felt – he reached and reached but there was only a deep emptiness set inside his bones it rang soundly in his ears and eyes.

As he was met with nothing, tears came to his eyes which flew open in his despair that came so suddenly he tasted iron and salt. Breath escaping him in shudders and tearing apart in shrapnel, green eyes stared accusingly at shaking hands.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to see a purple orb softly twinkle at him, and a worried crinkled face orbiting above him with deep brown eyes.

With a voice so soft it felt like a feather against his skin, Tsuna became his float. “Hey, it’s okay. You yourself saw the sparks earlier, now you just need to let it come to you. Don’t force it; it’s a part of you. It’s okay.

“It’s okay.”

Warm hands taking his, he concentrated on that heat, that body temperature seeping to his own body…

_Bright lights **red** _

Cloud _**red**                                                                                                  smo ke _

_“Do n’ t g o –” **red**                                                                         “I h ave to,"                                                                                                  shouts                        _

_B  lo od                                                                                                                          “please”_

_“Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived… come to die.”_

a smirk

**_ no _ **

“—Harry!”

His breathing irregular, his heart pitter-pattering, his head lit with a glowing white flame; he did it. His flame was burning vividly atop his sweaty head, and its fieriness was making it bend and melt into different extreme shapes

Yet, against the dark expanse of sky behind him, he was a ghost; white surrounding him and washing him a pale shade that only highlighted the sharpness of his jutting cheekbones and his sunken cheeks and bitten lips. Eyes glassy and blank, tears marked its tracks down his face.

Flame making one last leap before dying, Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his body collapsed to the ground.

_No, please._

_Don’t let it happen again._

Somewhere inside him, another hummingbird died.


	5. Within Ryohei's Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryohei's interlude: 
> 
> He was left alone with the ghost of blood and violence gripping him by his throat.  
> The lights shuddered, and the space turned dark.  
> Bitterness burned at the back of his eyes and seared their tracks down.  
> What a fucking coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end of the chapter.

Every time he saw Harry, Ryohei couldn’t help but smile in a mixture of emotions. Guilt mixed in with relief, regret tainting concern, sadness overlapping with joy – a cocktail of contrasting feelings.

As his eyes tracked how the sides of green orbs crinkled in laughter and the shine of amusement danced in the emerald pools of light, a bittersweet smile twisted the boxer’s lips.

That fateful day wasn’t the first time he met Harry Potter.

x

The first time he saw Harry Potter was on the foreigner’s first day in Namimori Middle School. It was impossible to miss him, the only white male possibly the majority of students have ever seen in real life, other than Hayato. With Hayato’s abrasive nature, it seemed almost natural that others would better “appreciate” the meeker looking newbie.

Everyone paused. They stared. Ryohei was of no exception: he had been changing his shoes in the corridor when he heard the growing craze of the students.

Whispers covered every step he took, and eagle-sharp eyes dogged his shadows; predators zeroing in on a small, exquisite prey. It almost felt like their eyes were hands that were rising from the darker shadows to grab and take hold of the thin legs and ankles and drag him across the floor and into their domain for them to inspect.

Looking back, Ryohei was amazed that Harry didn’t just shrivel up from the unwanted attention. He resembled enough a skinny stalk that it wouldn’t be surprising if Harry had just withered away before their eyes.

(Belladonna[1]. He read about it once, in Biology class. A cluster of flowers that hang their heads low when they are still opening their blooms, dyed in a deep dark purple that matched the foreigner’s dark circles.

_Silence._

                                                                                                                                                 Like him. _Just like him_.)

Regardless, the transfer student just walked slowly, dragging his feet, especially his right. It wasn’t awkward enough to be considered limping, but it was certainly not normal enough to be considered a typical walking pattern. With his head down and never looking up, he simply made his way through to the school entrance.

Or so he tried, but never raising his head inevitably led him to bump into someone. Ryohei knew the guy; he was from the rugby team and hence incredibly bulky, but he also had a heart big enough to compete with the size of his muscles. He would never harm a fly, and it showed in how he tried to ensure that the new student didn’t fly off from the impact by holding onto his shoulders firmly, though not aggressively.

But the foreigner reacted so intensely, it seemed as though he had been hit by a truck. The black-haired male flinched harshly, reminiscent of a panic attack, sharp breaths escaping his body in violent gasps and his arms raising to block his face and midriff.

Long moments dug a knife between Ryohei’s ribs as the student slowly, finally put down his arms with a hesitance so full of dread that seemed so heavy on the slight shoulders of the short teenager. Ryohei stood there, stuck and holding his breath, watching the new student duck his head further into his chest and making a quick escape after a stiff apology.

Following his movements, his eyes spotted bright red and purple mottled skin under the flare of oversized pants.

-

He couldn’t get him out of his head – all he thought about in class was the boy who looked so scared.

His thoughts drowned out the voices of his teachers and peers, sending him into the deep abyss of his soul as his muscles remembered how to live while his mind was lost.

All he could think was how Kyoko had eyes like those before.

Eyes so fragile the shattered parts shone through the dark in his sleep, tears crystalline and clear dripping, haunting him through nights. Silent cries that rang like toll bells in his brain, shaking his soul in vibrations of despair and guilt.

So, Ryohei took up boxing, building his strength; to become the gold in her kintsugi[2], put her back whole together. So, he became a loud extremist who took things to a whole new level; to put back the light into her eyes of crystal, mend her broken fragments.

It took him years; he didn’t think he’d have to do it again after Kyoko finally glowed.

He didn’t think he _could_.

He didn’t think he could stand seeing someone fall and fall while he tried to be an anchor, no matter how much he wanted to help.

He didn’t want someone to slip through his fingers again because he wasn’t strong enough.

As he trudged through the masses of anonymous bubbly students, he felt terribly alone in the world. So alone in this overwhelming nausea, knowing someone else was suffering the way his beloved sister once did, knowing probably no one else noticed the signs. Alone in this toxic community that was superficial beyond belief and poisonous behind their sharp smiles. In this place that stabbed people in their back and abandoned the different. That isolated Tsuna and everyone who gave his sister and him a place to belong.

The world was so extremely cruel.

When he passed the neighbouring classroom, his head shot up as he spotted people crowding a certain table. It was him, the new boy. Reading the chalkboard, Ryohei whispered his name to himself, like a secret he wanted to keep: _Potta Harii_. _Potter Harry_. Harry.

_It burned._

It seemed like everyone else was welcoming him, what with the warm smiles and excited chatter. But Ryohei knew better than to believe such farces again. He saw how they started closing in around the poor boy who just kept his head down and shrank further into himself, almost curling into a ball. The smiles became toothier, and Ryohei saw their shadows lengthen into dark beasts drooling with their sharp canine teeth gleaming in the dark, their eyes glowing eerily. Even in the light, their eyes were disconcertingly focused, their grins daggers that stripped layers from the mind.

Just a shout would scatter these cowardly creatures, and Harry would be happier. Safer.

Yet his voice wouldn’t come through with words; his words were clogged in his throat, wet and sticky, like toffee that melted under unending heat that burnt it into bitter shards cutting into his oesophagus, letting the unspoken bleed and trickle back into his volcano of a stomach, boiling and festering. A shout tore him away from his thoughts.

“Oi, Sasagawa! If you don’t hurry up, we’re gonna leave you behind! And you’ll be the one who has to deal with the gym gorilla!”

Time started flowing again, and he could move his feet.

Even as he took step after step, he steadfastly ignored the heart-dropping sight and followed after his classmates. Eyes straight forward, it was sheer will – _or was it cowardice and fear?_ – that propelled him forward. Despite so, he wasn’t wholly present at all. 

His heart wouldn’t follow him; it stayed with Harry at the door.

-

Goosebumps raised on his arms and legs, and the hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end. Every time he saw Harry, his eyes were glass marbles. Reflective, but empty.

Again, he tried to gather his usual “extreme” energy and convert it into courage – but gritting his teeth and digging his nails into his palms didn’t help to move his feet forward or open his mouth. Dread still pooled in the bottom of his stomach and cemented his feet to the ground.

So, he gave up on that.                 Or at least he tried.

But seeing the huge blots of bruises on that pale and soulless face only made his stomach heavier with sourness burning his throat. As much as he couldn’t make himself reach out to Harry in all the ways he should have and all the ways Harry deserved, Ryohei could not walk away from that any longer.

Who was he if not Sasagawa Ryohei who fought for his sister and those who couldn’t fight for themselves?

Harry certainly didn’t care about his identity crisis when the boxer brought some bandages to the bathroom. It should’ve been comical, seeing the fiercely muscular fighter toe around the dented pail and drops of blood with his face as white as a sheet of paper, as though he were a stranger to violence. But bleeding on the floor, body battered and lying against the toilet stall made it hard for amusement to spark with everything seeming so monotonous and bland.  

“What,” a quiet voice rasped, interjected by a cough. “What do you want?”

“I-I, I mean no harm, I just want to help with your wounds, I swear, I extremely swear that I am up to no bad, I just –”

Gulping at the dead look sent his way, Ryohei wisely shut up and just did what he wanted. He was extremely careful with how he moved Harry, treating him like a doll that was only still together by a thread, slowly adjusting his position so the substitute first-aider could put his self-taught skills to use.

Silence reigned in the bathroom, where chillingly no one walked into. The whole time Ryohei was fixing Harry up, all he wanted was someone to come in, and just prove him wrong with a shocked expression this whole situation warranted. But of course, he was right. And he hated that moment the most.

When he was finally done with his handiwork of a mess, Harry didn’t look much better for wear though he did look cleaner. A relieved sigh escaped Ryohei, and the victim moved himself gently, dusting himself when he stood up. With each wince and muffled moan, the knife dug deeper into every tender spot of Ryohei’s body.

Harry didn’t wait for his “saviour” to recover from his stupor and left with an almost indistinguishable “thank you”, like a spirit drifting from one plane to another.

He was left alone with the ghost of blood and violence gripping him by his throat.

The lights shuddered, and the space turned dark.

Bitterness burned at the back of his eyes and seared their tracks down.

_What a **fucking** coward. _

-

Despite all the times he bit his tongue till iron filled his mouth, the words just tumbled out, like those of an ignorant child. “Why don’t you fight back?”

Ryohei didn’t think he could ever forget the look in those green, green eyes that held such a broken light, yet still shone so bright. “I wouldn’t make a difference.” Nothing cut deeper than those words.

He knew better than to talk about it again afterwards. The uncomfortable unspoken hung in the air between them, and he never brought it up ever again. He could almost swallow it down, only it hung so densely and threatened to suffocate him.

He was simply there whenever Harry needed someone to bandage him up and wipe away the blood.

                                                                                                                                                                    He was never there when it counted.

Sometimes Ryohei wondered why he even stayed. A look at the shadowed face and knotted fingers made him wonder why he even thought of leaving.

-

Why was he the way he was?

-

All he knew about how to deal with such situations were learned from his experience with Kyoko.

He remembered how Kyoko had hated the quiet. It was in silence that she had gotten hurt, by the ones who had been careful to not get caught, until they met Ryohei.

She had used to flinch whenever someone creeped up from behind, whenever someone startled her, because that’s what they loved to do: ambush her and silence her with a hand plastered across her face roughly. She had avoided anyone who was plain and too methodical and analytical – such people were only prowling in wait, she had learnt.

Ryohei changed to become loud, to laugh full bellied laughs, to announce his presence as “her brother”. He changed from reserved to extreme, fighting each day to earn each inch of her smile back until it came to her naturally like breathing again.

Even breathing had become a chore, once upon a time.

But Harry was different. The first few times he did that, Harry had a panic attack and shut down so bad Ryohei thought he would never see him again. A shout was enough to wipe out the colour from his already pale face, and a careless touch seemed to send him into hyperventilation.

So, Ryohei took his cues, readjusted and learnt to be quiet, slow and soft with him.

Malleable and smooth, he bent himself and his new nature over to make things better. He didn’t know if it helped any.  

-

Every time he helped to clean up the mess,

it felt like his soul broke into pieces when

he looked into blistered empty hands

and mirror eyes.

 

Maybe scrambled eggs would be the best way to describe how his insides felt.

-

When Tsuna brought Harry into their Famiglia, the sun was crowded out by the rainclouds. Rays of light tried to escape, but every moment was made brief with the dark that chased after them.

Ryohei was so excited for this new life it meant that Harry, and himself, would have. The shame that followed however was not very helpful in his emotional management. He himself had known about the abuse in school for months and still couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than act as a pathetic crutch that only let things continue to escalate. Tsuna only glimpsed what his family life was like from that short visit, knew that it was only the tip, and decided to bring him home without even digging deeper.

What did it say about him?

Tsuna stood tall next to Harry, his shoulders broad and his back straight. Behind them, their shadows lengthened and merged into one under the blazing sun. Harry’s shoulders weren’t set as tense as before, and there was a natural slope down from the neck to the joints in his shoulders.

They could talk. He heard random bursts of conversations that spiked in volume, and it was definitely mostly Tsuna’s voice. But there was an ache in his chest and echoes in his head. Something so slow and tormenting, it felt like a rusted spoon was digging at his heart. _They could talk._

                                                                                   _Who was he?_

x

In the end, his own struggles didn’t matter.

x

Sure, Harry was still quiet. His eyes were still dark most of the times, from late nights of nightmares and troubled sleep and memories of his past.

But there was so much laughter, so much joy, so much positivity just emanating/radiating out from him, it sometimes made Ryohei blink a bit more. Whether it was to prevent tears of pride and relief or tears from the brightness from falling was his own secret to keep.

x

Belladonna. A cluster of flowers that hang their heads low when they are still opening their blooms, dyed in a deep dark purple that matched the foreigner’s dark circles.

But when they bloom, they open up in the most beautiful way; to the overarching sky above and its elements. Their heads rise up high, standing tall.

Amaryllis[3].

That’s what Harry was.

A beautiful Belladonna Amaryllis.

 

 

* * *

Bright green eyes gazed at the strong features of the teenager that slackened in his sleep. The deep golden orange ray of sunlight ran across that handsome face, drifting over his scar, giving off the illusion of blood. 

Ryohei was such a bittersweet reminder of how the world cares, but not enough to take initiative.

Harry got it, so he didn’t hold it against Ryohei, but felt grateful instead for how caring and gentle and understanding he was. The boxer learned to rewire his thinking and recharacterize himself just so that Harry could feel more comfortable. Who would’ve done that so easily without thinking much about it? Changing their entire identity?

But some part of him would always ask why Ryohei didn’t move for him and always cry whenever he saw Ryohei smile, because he wanted so badly for Ryohei to care for him the way he cared for Kyoko.

Was that so bad? Was that so selfish of him to ask?

But Ryohei didn’t know why he didn’t either – maybe he was too tired of pulling himself apart to fix someone together and couldn’t bear to do it for someone he barely knew, even if he hurt so bad for him. He couldn’t, not without killing himself in the process. No matter what, he was still just a boy, who in the midst of healing Kyoko, hurt himself too much. But at his core, he was still so kind, so loving. Just too hurt to be able to put himself out there again to help others.

And yet.

His whims hurt so badly Harry sometimes wondered if it would hurt less thinking everyone hated him instead, rather than having one person who knew and had a heart hurting for him but didn’t do anything.

Harry wished people stopped doing what they wanted and did what was needed instead.

_Wishes were so hard to grant._

 

 

* * *

[1] Silence

[2] The Japanese art of using gold to put together broken pottery to create something new that is often so much more beautiful.

[3] Poetry, Pride, Splendid Beauty, Timid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Immense angst, self-questioning, and identity crises.  
> Mentions of bullying and abuse.  
> Ryohei with a complex.


	6. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Head down, forehead on his knees, he was small, tucked away in his corner of darkness.  
> A sob crawled towards the light peeking through the bottom of the door, aching.  
> All he could ever do was run away from red.

It was like static was blaring from all around him; his bones shook and his brain vibrated. Fireworks flashed in his mind – vivid colours –

_“Harry, hey, Harry! … Wake… wake up wake up –”_

_“—open your eyes! Can … hear us?”_

_“Wait, his eyes are moving… think…”_

_“He’s conscious, give it a minute –”_

_“Shhhh… him space…”_

**_“Harry, it’s all right._ **

**_“I’m here for you.”_ **

Air rushed back into his frozen lungs, and his whole body spasmed as he came back to life.

His chest tight, coughs escaped him wetly. Gasping loudly, he greedily inhaled all the air he could, breathing heavily in ragged short pants, fighting for every gulp.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

With his breathing paced out more evenly, his heartbeat gradually quieted enough for him to hear past the rush of blood in his ears and through his vessels. Voices were speaking to him. At some point, there was a warm hand that shook him gently as well.

The sky was dark today. He could spot only a few twinkles far, far away from him. All dark. The moon, white. White skin, shiny – like a snake. His breaths were quickening again – he could see the darkness encroaching and closing in around him; were those lights of an aeroplane or red eyes gleaming – breathe breathe _breathe –_

Something was patting his cheek.

His eyes shifted from the overarching sky to the rainbow around him. Purple and orange were bright, chasing away the shadows. Slowly, the tension in his clenched body released and the heavily contained energy seeped out of him.

“Can you hear me, Harry?”

A nod.

“Do you feel better now?”

Another nod.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“…

“I… I was trying to use my Flames…”

A long pause sank the air while the British teenager shivered in the humid weather. Ryohei shrugged off his jacket and made to carry it forward, though he got stopped by Chrome, who shook her head sadly with a fierce eye.

Not noticing anything with his still blank eyes, Harry tried to continue. “Then, I… _saw_ something.” He shivered, more violently this time with goosebumps raising on his arms. “People, everyone was dying and someone with red eyes was staring at me, there were hands red with blood, everything was red, _red;_ soaked with blood; dead, everyone was _dead, you_ were dead; only me, only _I_ was –”

“Shh,” the young Don hugged him tightly, unable to stop himself after seeing Harry panic again. “It’s okay, it’s not real, you’re safe here. _We’re_ here.” Like cooing to a baby, the brunette cradled the flighty hummingbird and rocked in slow, slight beats, soft humming upon his lips.

His stuttering breaths calmed with the hug, his thoughts of death replaced. _Ah, this feels so familiar._ It was similar to when he was first hugged by Tsuna in the future. Tsuna’s shoulders now may be smaller, his built more bone than muscle, but the comfort and warmth were still the same. Another tremor wrecked Harry’s cold body before he finally stabilised enough to sit up by himself.

He held onto Tsuna tightly, breathing him in. The back under his palms was moving with the breaths that circulated his body, he could feel the beat of the pulsing heart; the engine of the body. Soft warmth enveloped and thawed his stiff muscles – there’s only the scent of the detergent used on freshly washed clothes, the soft glow of the moon on his fingers and everyone’s faces, the brief ups and downs of shoulders as air entered and left bodies –

_There’s life._

A shudder ran through his body, and the warm body around him was replaced by another, more slender and shorter. The grip was tighter but no less comforting. Pushed back, Harry was made to look at Chrome in the face.

“Harry,” it sounded almost like a bite, but the edge was mellowed by the grip that tightened convulsively then loosened on his arms. “Are you here?”

A smile crept onto his face, the corners of his mouth twitching subconsciously. How did he last so long without that sort of fierce look filled with worry and concern (dared he even say,  _love_ ) directed at him?

He managed to breathe out, “Yeah. Yes, I’m here. I’m _here_ –” Hysterical laughter exploded in short bursts, his fingers clawing at his beating heart. Again, trembles shook his curled body while his hands were clasped together as though protecting something close to his chest.

Another gentle hand brought him out of his stupor. Harry looked up behind his shoulder, eyes blurry, yet still able to see the softness in chocolate eyes. “How about a nice bowl of hot soup? I made your favourite; potato, carrot, corn with lots of tender pork.” Like a child, these simple words lured him to slowly, shakily stand up without relying on any of the outstretched hands around him, his eyes focused on Nana’s.

As he retreated into silence, blowing on and sipping his soup, Harry closed his eyes and prayed.

x

That slender back disappeared into the light of the kitchen, while they stayed in the dark, their shadows lengthened by the dim moonlight. Hunched shoulders, lowered head, shaking hands – it was like all the progress Harry made had been erased. Their eyes swivelled back to look at Reborn. Cold ran down their bodies; the sight of Reborn pondering under the brim of his fedora was never good. The shadows hid his expression.

“What,” Tsuna’s voice quivered in the night. “What was that?”

For once, Reborn answered him with a short direct answer. He slowly shook his head, “I don’t know.” Tipping his fedora further down, the baby’s face was completely hidden, with only a short, murmured repeat of “I don’t know”.

Dread lined stomachs and Tsuna stared at his Sky Ring.

_Fucking mafia and their stupid superpower history._

-

Harry couldn’t look at any of them in the eye for days after. Every time he talked, it was in a voice softer than before, like when he first joined them. It was almost as if he were avoiding them again, his expression closed off, but there were signs that belied his anxiety and fear. He stuck close to them, always staying within a radius of a few metres. Body language contradicted his behaviour; even in his prevalent fear, Harry kept going out of his way to stay near them, almost like a shadow sewn to their feet, unable to tear away.  

If it had happened naturally over time, they would have been overjoyed at this display of less distance. But the terror that leaked out of Harry’s pores and the dark shadows in glassy green eyes and twisted, overly bitten red lips made everything so much less bearable.

Why was it that fear was ever really the only thing that connected Harry with them?

That fact never settled well with Tsuna or anyone who cared, really. Hibari and Mukuro could not care less about Harry, though Hibari might if it deterred him from ever getting a match against Harry. But for the rest who were slightly more in touch with their humane side? Seeing him tremble again when he had _finally_ started to talk to them with less hesitation…

Tsuna didn’t know what to say. He never really ever did. So, he practised in front of the mirror like he always did back when he had still been mustering up the courage to talk to Kyoko.

“Hey, you doing okay?”

_Nah._

“Hi, Harry… any more visions lately?”

_What the heck._

“ _(shooting finger guns)_ Visions suck, am I right?”

_You look like an obnoxious idiot._

With a sigh and a hand running through his hair in frustration, Tsuna just made a nasty hand motion at himself in the mirror then made his way out his bedroom. His focus was entirely on his hopefully unseen embarrassment, and he only saw Harry when they bumped into each other accidentally.

“Ow – hey, sorry, are you alright?”

He winced. Of course Harry wasn’t alright – what was he doing, asking about something so stupid? But when he looked into bottle green eyes that quickly averted contact, his mouth ran away from his mind.

That seemed to happen a lot around Harry.

“Y-yeah… I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“… No, you’re not fine.”

Met with an alarmed expression, Tsuna quickly returned an assuring grin. “It’s okay that you’re not fine,” he said as he stared at Harry’s fingers that knotted and twisted together in a way that made his own stomach turn. Biting the inside of his lips, Tsuna just went with it. “We just get worried because it’s obvious you’re scared. _I_ worry about you. But it’s okay. Things are just, really, really weird now, and we don’t know what’s happening. We’re all a bit scared, honestly. So, just… take as much time as you need. Everything’s going to be fine because we’re going to make it fine. Okay?”

He looked back up at Harry’s face. His own smile turned more fixed and less natural. Somehow, some part of him was actually expecting something soft, happy. Maybe a smile, a genuine bud finally growing in those reflective eyes. Not planning anything and just going with his gut usually helped.

Nothing could have prepared him for a still glassy and cold stare and a smile that was painted on and smudged across a pale face. The next thing he knew, Harry muttered out his thanks with painfully shaped lips, and went down the stairs, leaving him in the hallway.

As he stared after that waning back, shivers ran down his spine.

Things were definitely not going well.

_Damn the mafia._

Who was he kidding?

_Damn his frigging mouth and insensitivity._

x

What could he have said? “Thank you for your concern, it is of much comfort?”

That would have been a lie, had it left his mouth. He could not have meant those words, not with the nights of muffled screaming, and the hallucination of blood and destruction. Not when those… _things_ he saw were _visions_. Of course, it was touching to know that they cared – Tsuna kept shooting glances at him, Chrome kept being a mother hen and Ryohei kept being even softer around him. Even the others were acting differently. The kids were actually parting with some of their favourite foods, like grape candy, dumplings, and risotto, because they believed he was having “bad dreams”.

But sometimes, Harry thought he felt ice stabbing into his back whenever he turned around corners.

Nonetheless, though he was appreciative, trust did not come to him easily.

Even as he went into the kitchen for dinner, a migraine overwhelmed him. Stumbling, he leaned against the door frame, that was su dde n ly no t ther e –

(Dried blood covered almost every inch, splattered and drowning. There was no roof, only bits of the house’s structural frame hanging on after being blown into smithereens. What was left was but an empty husk of the life that had been. That kitchen counter of shy smiles, burnt; that stove of warmth, melted; that top cupboard of secret laughter, gone. That dining table of community, shattered. Holes and blood filled the place – _how was he supposed to carry on when he knew these things were going to happen and there was nothing, **nothing**_ _he could do to stop it from –_ )

“Harry!”

Breathe.

Again, he took in the sight of concerned eyes that were so kind but so cuttingly _ignorant_.

“I – I think I’ll rest upstairs. I’m… sorry.”

Leaving behind that room of people who were burning so brightly, Harry clawed at his chest, stumbling back into his very own room, closed off from the world and shut away from the light. He curled into a ball. Head down, forehead on his knees, he was small, tucked away in his corner of darkness.

A sob crawled towards the light peeking through the bottom of the door, aching.

All he could ever do was run away from red.

x

_“Tch.”_

It couldn’t help but escape from Haru’s mouth; a crude sound that embodied all her frustration and disgust. Biting her tongue and the inside of her cheeks, she tried to hold in the torrent of emotions that threatened to explode from her soft delicate paper-mâché skin, the fragile last line of defence.

Her body temperature only rose further when she saw how almost everyone catered to his weak rejection towards learning. Her stomach boiling, it felt as though her insides were crawling up through her throat and rotting in her mouth. How dare that _boy_ keep holing himself away while they were only trying to open his eyes to something so obvious. But the most embittering thing of all was seeing the immense potential he had, wasting away in hands that didn’t want to create.

Inevitably, her fury won over the filter between her mind and mouth when she heard Harry reject yet another advance from Tsuna to practise using his Flames, and she snapped.

“Stop running away for God’s sake, you _brat_.”

“Haru—”

“Tsuna-san, please just keep quiet.” Shocked, the Decimo obediently shut his mouth, staring at the Fury in front of him, burning with yellow topaz eyes. The others reverted to spectators as well, not having the opportunity to see Haru flare up so badly before. With the quiet room lending her inner rage greater volume over her mind ~~,~~ fire spat from her mouth.

“How _dare_ you just keep running away, when we are all here trying to help you? Tsuna-san brought you away from those monsters, brought you into our family when no one else really wanted to – _he gave you a **family**_. He let you see the power inside of you, the power you had all along, to prove that you’re not _weak_ , that _you’re a part of us_. But **you** just get scared because of some things that haven’t even happened yet, because you _can’t see past your weakness_.”

With cold sadistic delight fighting envy and frustration in her heart as she saw Harry’s gradually paling face, Haru bit out her words bitterly, tearing up.

“How do you think _I_ feel? I’ve been trying my hardest to conjure even the smallest spark for so so long, and even now, I can barely make a flame come to life for more than a few minutes. I’ve been practising, and practising, and **_practising_**. But you? You barely did it for a day, and you can _see the future_. You can help the Famiglia so much, and you’re not even really a part of us yet.

“What about me? I just want to protect the people I love, and I can’t even do that. So, can’t you just _try_ , try to see past yourself? _You’re_ part of something so big, and I can’t even _fathom_ of being there for them while you just give up and –”

She breathed in deeply, trying to keep her too small heart from leaping out from her slight chest. Her delicate fists clenched so tightly they shook, the little knuckles in her fingers turning white. Bright yellow met glassy green in a fierce glare. A spark of white started. At the back of her head, it niggled at her.

_Even his eyes had a fire hers didn’t._

“Don’t be a useless coward. Use that power you have and learn for goodness’ sake. Don’t be a piece of scum who only wants to be protected and not do anything in return. Not when they’re all trying so hard to make you see that you’re family now.

“The future isn’t unchangeable. You have the power to change what you see. _Use it_.”

Silence. There was only the sound of Haru sniffling, along with her heavy, broken breathing.

A screech sounded when a chair scraped across the floor. She sidestepped the slender hand that reached out for her. She had to clear her throat multiple times to speak past the gigantic knot in her raw throat. “I’m sorry Kyoko, I’m just going to practise on my own.”

Walking out the front door, Haru kept her back ramrod straight, shoulders set as far apart as she could. Steady, paced footsteps quickened into a brisk walk; the side of the garden where no one could see her from inside was an escape. Once her feet found their way there, there they stayed, unmoving. Quiet. The wind caressed the grass, the trees swayed, the birds chirped. Clouds parted, light shined down. Warm sunlight kissed her skin.

Shivers rippled her body, and her face just _fell_ as she crouched so quickly she blacked out. Balling herself up, she forced her body to become as small as she felt. The plants seemed to grow and curl up around her in comfort as the earth throbbed with energy, embers flickering. But nothing mattered to the girl, who could only taste the steel and depth of her despair.

Ah, for all her bravado, she didn’t want _him_ to become stronger, to become the one they relied on.

_She wanted to **be** him so badly._

Sobs choking her, she just cried. Long into the day and into the night, she just cried.

She just wished she had more power.

x

Heart in his throat, Harry’s eyes stayed glued onto the door the enraged teenager walked out. It didn’t register that Kyoko and the children followed after her. His mind was only encompassed by the overwhelming thoughts Haru triggered. He never meant for this to happen, he only wanted to –

He swallowed past the pit of horrifying realisation that spread cold from his stomach throughout his limbs. He only wanted to – _save himself_. That couldn’t be true; he wanted to save them the trouble of expensing limited resources on him, on teaching him when he was too frightened to do anything properly; he didn’t want to become a burden on the very people that saved him from his own kin.

_Right?_

But he couldn’t delude himself anymore, not when he felt it settle in his very bones, the foundation of his very being. Self-preservation had been instilled in him the moment he was brought to the Dursleys’ doorsteps; he would do anything to survive. So, he stayed mum about his relatives’ less than favourable treatment toward him. So, he never told on the bullying. He kept his head down because he didn’t want to stick out and get into even more trouble. So, he stuck to these kind, kind people who let him in, like a parasite, and played his cards accordingly in order to ensure he could take everything without giving anything of himself away, _because that was the only way he could stay safe_. So, he let everything bounce off him and he let everything fester within him.

Was she right? Had he been doing that all this time?

His palms were sweaty. Thoughts continued to run through his mind as he spasmed from the chill he was left in.

“Hey.”

Chrome stared at him. It burned through him, and for a fleeting moment, Harry wished there were two eyes so the intensity would halve itself.

“I… I didn’t know, I’m so sorry if I –”

“If you, what? If you tricked me into becoming your friend? Don’t think so highly of yourself,” the words were spat out with such ferocity, another lump rose in his oesophagus. “ _I_ am the one who chose to stay here by your side. _I_ am the one who chose to hold your hand. Don’t patronise me and say you’re sorry for a decision _I_ made.”

His breath hitched. He really didn’t expect that ending when she started out like that.

“Dokuro, no, Chrome’s right.” His head swivelled around and there it was, Ryohei’s self-deprecating smile that never failed to stab at his fragmenting heart. “I’m the one who let you continue to suffer as well. Surely that was never something _you_ wanted.” Tears stubbornly clung to his lower lashes and refused to dry from his many blinks.

“Harry,” a warm hand cupped the curve of his shoulder joint, seeping through the freezing cold. He didn’t dare to look up at the gentle tilt of kind lips and the quiet slope of tender eyes that were sure to be there. “You’re not _God_. You’re not omnipresent or omniscient; you’re just a human like us. Maybe you did subconsciously have that desire urging your actions, but guess what? We all have free will, and we all play a part in everything we do. It’s not about you. It’s about _us._ That’s why we have a relationship.”

How could these people exist in the same world as the Dursleys and the bullies?

Why were humans so weird? So different from each other with a crushing gap between them, yet so beautifully unique at the same time?

“But: we would allll appreciate it very much if you would suck it up and control your powers.”

All eyes refocused on the lanky figure that laid across the couch in the living room, watching television. Mukuro looked up from his show and just raised an eyebrow at them. “What, did I say something wrong? It’s the truth that everyone knows but won’t say; except for that little girl. Kufufu, I must say, I didn’t think she could be such a spitfire. Perhaps there is some value to her existence after all.” The slant of those mismatched eyes grew deeper as he donned a bigger smirk.

Chrome furrowed her brows, offering only a meek, “Mukuro-sama…” Only passing her a short glance, Mukuro looked past her and directly at Harry.

His lips stretched wide across his face, in a manner which could only be described as spine-chilling and almost perverse. With his finger, he tapped the skin under his right eye maddeningly slowly. _Tap, tap, tap._

“Better learn to use that Flame of yours, before you get yourself and your precious things burned.”

A red orb glowed menacingly in the dim kitchen light.

_Kufufu._


	7. In The Heart Of It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude: Haru, Kyoko, Hana. 
> 
> Neck almost cracking from whiplash, Haru stared intently at Hana, then Kyoko, and Hana again. The gears wouldn’t stop moving.   
> Tick tock, tick tock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end of the chapter. I swear I didn't plan it out like this, but hey, the story ran away from me and grew its own life. The warnings are here to stay.

 

> **_From Them Who Were Left In The Dust_ ** **_(and rose from the ashes)_ **

 

The way she looked was so pathetic that Hana’s heartstrings were tugged so painfully they felt like breaking. Ugly wails that reach such a painful frequency and animalistic pitch wrecked their way out, tearing the throat that was sure to be red and raw. Muddy knees sank into the soft soil in the garden, buds sprouting where tears fell.

Haru’s hands covered her face, her hair providing an extra layer of defence as she tried to hide from the world. Voice muffled by Kyoko’s chest, her sobs were hard to discern. Still, it was nonetheless heartbreaking.

“That’s not who I want to be; I don’t want to be that selfish person. That’s _not me_.”

Hiccups peppered her speech, a spicy weight that laid heavy in their hearts. They continued to listen, letting Haru pour out what’s left over from the shatter pieces of the explosion earlier. Kyoko pillowed her head and heart while brushing her frizzy hair with her fingers, and Hana leaned against the house, facing the garden.

_Creak._

Shadows grew eerily long and thin as the sun set overhead.

          The evening wind blew.

“I know it’s not his fault, he didn’t ask to have that power or to be here. He deserves it all after the shit he’s been through.” _But I can’t take back my words,_ she screamed.

_Tick._

“I know, I _know_ , but… I just want to be better. I want to contribute and play a part in this too – isn’t this _our_ Famiglia? What’s the point of being a ‘teenage genius’ if this body can’t keep up?” _Why can’t I say what I really want,_ she choked.

_Tick._

Finally, Haru lifted her head slightly, examining her hands. Filthy; empty. They did so much for her: helping her to write and pass her examinations with such flying colours her parents patted her head, churning out the Flames that proved she was a part of her important people, holding her beloveds’ hands… 

But there was nothing in her grasp. Why couldn’t they do more?

Why couldn’t she be who she wanted to be?

“Yet I’m the only one who can’t produce good enough results; I can’t do anything to help... How **useless** …”

_Tock._

The gentle hand smoothing down her hair stopped, swooping down to the bony shoulder below. It grasped the joint firmly, pushing Haru back just enough for warm brown eyes to dig a stare into her soul. For once, those eyes were fierce, glowing in an intensity that was rarely seen. Haru subconsciously swallowed nervously, her thoughts coming to a halt. Did she say something wrong? Did she, in her self-centeredness, hurt someone again unintentionally?

_Tick. Tick._

Cautiously, she asked in concern with a trembling voice, “Kyoko-chan… I didn’t mean to insinuate that you weren’t helping me enough, if anything, I didn’t practise enough so –”

_Tock._

Her heart dropped when Kyoko cut her off with a shake of her head. She shivered from the sudden chill, just as Hana dropped down to sit next to her. Her hair dark as a panther’s coat, it shone with an inner light under the rays of dying sunlight. A strong build of pale white lily skin made her own look even more delicate, what with the lithe muscles hidden under loose clothes. High cheekbones and a strong jawline cut through the darkening garden; her features were only enhanced under the dimmer light. _A white chrysanthemum **[1]**._

The way those dark blazing eyes glanced at her other side made Haru turn her head.

Kyoko. Her brown hair burned gold, the sun behind a halo crowning her. Fair skin warmed by the light, her presence was felt. Small face framed by soft hair, she was the elegance Haru would never be. The mystery hiding behind those amber eyes and knowledge behind those ever-smiling lips, they deepened the superficial beauty of her long fingers and slender neck; they seemed to warn, _I am not to be played with_. _A lotus flower **[2]**. _

Neck almost cracking from whiplash, Haru stared intently at Hana, then Kyoko, and Hana again. The gears wouldn’t stop moving.

_Tick tock, tick tock._

Ah, was she going to be rejected after all? She couldn’t help but see her own skin that was speckled with pimples from long nights, her dull dry brown hair and boring dirt brown eyes. What was the use of blistered hands that didn’t produce? Small and inferior; it was like comparing the moon to its inferior reflection on the lake, or more aptly, to a rock so roughly textured it grazes skin.

~~**_too small_ ** _heart, **slight** chest  
**delicate** fists, **little** knuckles **[3]**_ ~~

**_weak._ **

And further back in her mind was the memory of shy yet sly smiles girls in her many classes would have as they faked their tears, crying, “Haru-chan is too scary to be friends with” or “she gets too intense and freaky”. _Freaky._

_Tick tock tick tick ticktickticktick –_

“Haru.”

Her breathing stopped.

“It’s not like we don’t feel the same way. But you’ve got to let go.”

Those sorrowful black eyes gazed at her so deeply, she felt like she was burning inside-out.

 “You have to let go. If not, you’ll just sink so deep down, you’ll never see the sky again.”

Dark abysses seemed to spark alive in green and red, and colour rushed through her world. Her despair was being compressed into the single crystalline tear falling down her cheek; a fiery hope reshaping her reality.

Burned down to nothing but mere ashes, her walls crumbled in front of her fears that were being brought to life through the words she worshipped so much by one of her best friends. She lowered her head in a harsh motion, her neck muscles protesting the rough treatment. Ignoring her stupidly weak body, Haru rasped out, “I know.” She kneaded her sore eyes aggressively with the ball of her palms.

Streaks of red ran across her face, standing out vividly under the orange sky as Haru turned her face upwards. A vain attempt at hiding her emotions it was, for the droplets of shining iridescence betrayed everything. Her feeble voice peeped out of wobbly lips, “But I don’t know how I can be better.”

Slim hands guided her face to the side, cupping her head with force as light as a feather, yet firm as a rock. Haru had no other place but the gentle eyes and smile to set her eyes upon. She tried to shuffle away and avoid the incoming undeserved comfort, but Kyoko had a strong grip. There was never a choice, not really when faced with that kind face set in grace and strength.

Silence kept her anxiety at bay as long moments of tranquillity soothed her beating heart. The rhythmic movement of Kyoko smoothing her hair was familiar, and her eyes slowly slid shut. Her bangs were being brushed out of her red swollen eyes carefully when Kyoko finally spoke. “It’s okay,” her quiet voice whispered. “You can learn.”

Such a simple answer, yet it made Haru tear more.

But Kyoko wasn’t done working her magic.

“You’re going to grow so, so much. And we’ll be there with you, every step of the way. Because you were here for us too, we’d never leave you behind.”

“How could you say that?”

Bell-like laughter chimed. Pale hands glowed under the moonlight as they approached her own stubby fingers, grasping them tightly, leaving no wriggle room for Haru to let go. “Your hands are so warm,” Kyoko breathed, tenderly turning Haru’s calloused hands over in quiet admiration. “They might be a bit rough in some places.” Haru couldn’t help but flinch slightly. Her heart hurt enough. “But these are Cinderella hands; roughened by hard work, in beautiful pursuit of her happiness, and especially those she loves.”

She sniffled and bit the inside of her lips.

And when she finally smiled back at those insistent puppy eyes and pout, another hand, its fingertips now smooth after its unique print was burned off, caressed her cheek. Haru looked back at those deep eyes that smiled at her. A stalk of dandelion[4] popped into her view as Hana gifted it to her with a hesitancy that was almost shy.

Taking it, she felt as though she knew this flower like the back of her hand. Every leaf, every bump on the stem, even the petals were familiar in the way the constant burning warmth under her skin was. She tilted her head at Hana in silent questioning. Hana just nodded her head toward the soil she was sitting on with warm eyes.

And when her own eyes followed, her heart beat faster. Encircling them were stalks and stalks of dandelions, sprouting from the ground of dirt that had been uncooperative in nurturing plant growth since before the training started.

When the black-haired girl was approached for answers again, it was with an affectionate tilt to the corner of her lips that Hana said, “You grew them with your own power, Haru.

“ _You did it.”_

Haru knew the twist her face had had to be ugly but she couldn’t help it. Because Hana was speaking the truth; she did it, with her own hands, with her own Flames that she could now feel coursing through her veins and her extremities – the soil was infused with her Sun Flames, and plants were only continuing to grow greener and taller.

Maybe her Flames weren’t much external-wise or fire-like at all, but it was _hers_. And she could use it.  

_Her own miracle_.

Sinking into those toned arms, she dug deeper into the embrace, her right hand clasping Kyoko’s own warm and inviting calloused fingers while her left held the dandelion that had turned into a seed-head.

However, even as she sighed in boneless contentment, Haru couldn’t fight off that thought in her mind.

“I – I want to, even if I have no right, I need to clear things up – so –”

Her inability to articulate herself made her huff in irritation.

A tighter hold around her and a kiss to the tearing corner of her eye.

“Let’s go apologise to Potter-san tomorrow.”

“Together.”

An evening wind blew, catching dandelion florets that flew high above them, the white dots like stars shooting across the sky.

It finally felt like real life.

Under the moonlight, their shadows merged into one.

At the tip, a small shrub of camellias[5] grew.

 

 

 

* * *

[1] A wonderful friend, A desolate heart, Abundance. In Chinese customs, it is a flower reserved for funerals only, given to the dead.

[2] Eloquence, Estranged love, Mystery, Trust, Purity, Perfection

[3] From Chapter 4

[4] Love's oracle, Happiness, Hope, Summer, Love me, Magic of wishes, Affection returned, Desire

[5] Gratitude, Perfection, Perfected loveliness, Contentment, Steadfastness, Transience of life, Elegantly delicate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:   
> Hints of homoeroticism  
> Angst   
> Inferiority Complex   
> Haru has a reason for things


End file.
